


The Path Forward

by SoftGrungeFairy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Like it's really gonna get off the rails, M/M, lots of au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftGrungeFairy/pseuds/SoftGrungeFairy
Summary: Ellana Lavellan is ... not what Josephine had expected when she heard that the Herald of Andraste was a Dalish elf. The woman sitting in front of her was so calm it made Josephine nervous, like she knew something Josephine didn't.I wanted to explore a Lavellan who was already powerful in her own right. I'll be doing a character study through all of the companions and advisors eyes before I have a chapter from her perspective. There will be a plot though. This will be very AU though, I really dug into the Dalish and fleshed them out in a way I wish the game had. I don't have a beta, but if you'd like to let me know!





	1. Leliana

            The first time Leliana met Ellana Lavellan there was something about the elven woman intrigued her. She felt a little itch in the back of her mind that she couldn’t seem to scratch. She was familiar somehow, though Leliana was sure she had never met her. 

            It was her appearance that struck the spymaster first, even while the woman was unconscious. Where almost all the Dalish Leliana had ever met had their vallaslin only on their face, this woman had them covering all the skin Leliana could see. The intricate and winding lines took the form of a tree on her face with what looked like roots stretching down her neck and dark branches almost disappearing into the dark hair on the woman’s head. The markings on her fingers evoked the impression of leaves. The woman stood out to Leliana before she even opened her eyes and when she finally did the strange feeling only intensified.

            Cassandra however, as per usual, declined to take a subtle route, “Everyone at the conclave is dead. Except for you.” 

            Cassandra was already all but accusing the woman. The woman’s face froze for a moment, then here eyes flitted down and she blinked several times. Leliana saw a slight twitch in her left hand. When she answered Cassandra, she spoke carefully with a thickness in her throat, “How? Everyone? Are you sure?”

            “Of course we’re sure!”

            The woman bowed her head in the face of Cassandra’s anger, but her body posture was almost as relaxed as it had been when she was unconscious and the spymaster had the feeling Cassandra had been unsuccessful at intimidating the prisoner. Leliana could hear soft elvish coming from the woman’s mouth as she recited what sounded like a prayer. Either she was completely genuine or a very good liar. Leliana’s suspicion died.

            “Do you expect us to believe you had nothing to do with it?” Cassandra bellowed at the woman.

            The woman did not even flinch. She stared up at Cassandra confused, “Why would I want to hurt all those people?”

            “Then explain this!” 

            Cassandra jerked one of the woman’s folded hands up and a sudden flash of green exploded from it. The woman gasped and tried to reel away from her own hand. She blinked a few more times before gathering herself and turning back to Cassandra, “I … am afraid that I cannot, Seeker.”

            Cassandra threw the woman’s hand down before stomping back towards the door. Leliana stepped up and asked the woman, “You remember nothing then? Nothing at all?”

            The elf looked past the two women and focused on the wall behind them. Her eyebrows creased slightly, but eventually she shook her head and said, “No Sister Nightingale, I’m afraid I don’t. I wish that I could help you.”

            Leliana no longer believed the Dalish woman in front of her was responsible for the explosion, however she did pay her a second glance. How would she know enough about human politics in Orlais to know Leliana’s moniker in the court? This woman sounded like she was from the Free Marches and the Dalish were isolationist, it made no sense. 

Still, discovering this woman’s motives was only one of many problems Leliana needed to be dealing with right now. Cassandra could handle this for now. Tucking away her suspicion for later, Leliana left to go to the forward camp to coordinate a semblance of a defense. The last thing she heard was Cassandra saying, “Maybe there is a way you can help.”

            The valley was worse than any nightmare Leliana had ever had. The spymaster pushed herself past the stricken soldiers who looked like little more than children in her eyes.

            All the real soldiers were dead.

            Past the haunted and hollow eyes of the soldiers Leliana snuck along the ridges to ghost past the demons below. Leliana hopped down into what looked like the ruins of a tower. She held her breath as she checked around the corners for any errant demons that might be lurking. She took a step back felt something crack and break underneath her heel. 

            Leliana’s body froze and she turned her head and slowly looked down. 

            It was a hand. 

            A very small ashen hand. 

            The finger had dissolved under her boot. Inches away was a larger body frozen with its arms outstretched towards the smaller body. Leliana couldn’t see the face of the small body, but the larger body’s face was frozen in terror and anguish. Leliana didn’t believe the figure had been terrified for itself.

           One breath, then two more.  

           Three more, four more. 

           She wrenched herself away from the scene and forced herself around the figures very carefully, so as to not disturb them. The only thing that existed for Leliana the rest of the way to the forward camp was survival. If she stopped then she might have to process the smell of the ash, blood, and burning bodies. She might have to be honest with herself about what the silence meant. When she finally saw the still standing tower that led to the forward camp she sprinted the rest of the way.

            “Open the gate!” Leliana yelled when she got close.

            Two young soldiers at the top of the tower rushed to get the door open while Leliana skidded to a stop in front of the large wooden doors. She could hear the doors begin to creak open when she felt an awful shock down her spine. She turned her head and looked up to see the beginnings of small green sparks coming from a small point in the air above her. Quietly, as if from far away, Leliana could hear haunting howls. As the door slowly creaked open, the howls got closer. As soon as the door was wide enough for her to get through, Leliana darted through and ordered, “Close it now!”

            The soldiers did as she said and the last thing Leliana saw through a crack in the door was an explosion of green. In that green light Leliana saw a vision of the dirt tunnels of the Deep Roads. The dank air that tasted like death. Leliana saw herself ten years younger in the back of the group, listening for potential threats to her and her friends from behind. Alistair followed closely behind Surana and the strange dwarf Oghren shuffled a little behind them. She had been pretending to be brave, but it had been so many days since she’d seen the sun. It was hard to feel Andraste’s love down here in the dirt. She was in the middle of a quiet prayer when that horrible voice cut through.

            “First day, they come and catch everyone.”

            “My lady, are you injured?”

            Leliana jerked herself back to the present and turned to look at the young soldier at her side. The young woman was about the same age Leliana had been when she went into the Deep Roads. The terror from the good old days stuck like ice in her veins, but the spymaster repressed it. People were depending on her. Justinia would expect more of her. 

            “What’s our status?” 

            The soldier stood at attention and began her recitations of reports. Leliana threw herself into planning their next attempt to close the Breach. If she stopped she heard the dreadful voice. If she closed her eyes she saw the bodies. An hour or so later Leliana’s attention was grabbed by a commotion at the gate. The demons had been making attempts at the gate for a while now, but no serious threats. But the screams grew louder and fighting could be heard outside. All of the soldiers in the camp went silent. Leliana didn’t breathe. Finally there was what sounded like an explosion and the massive gates shuddered from the force. It felt like time had frozen. The young woman Leliana had been speaking to earlier shouted from the top of the tower, “Open the gates! She did it! The rift is gone!”

            The gates opened and standing front and center was the small Dalish prisoner. She now had a staff that she walked with, though she didn’t put any weight on it. Her large and reflective green eyes took in the scene casually. It was as if she hadn’t recently fought her way through one of the worst outbreaks of demons that Thedas had seen in ages. The woman strolled up to Leliana flanked by Cassandra, Varric, and the strange elven apostate Solas.

            “Nightingale, I don’t believe we were properly introduced before.” The hand not holding her staff extended out, “I’m Ellana Lavellan.”

            Leliana took the offered hand, “Leliana. Welcome to the forward camp.”

            “What is she doing here?” Chancellor Roderick’s voice erupted behind Leliana.

            Leliana rolled her eyes as she turned, annoyed at the Chancellor’s interruption.        Cassandra strode past both Leliana and Ellana to tower over Roderick.

            “She is here to help.”

            “I am in charge here and-“

            “ _ You  _ are a glorified bureaucrat.” Cassandra turned to look at Leliana but didn’t move an inch away from Roderick, “Leliana, what is our position?”

            Roderick sputtered, as Leliana reported, “Not good. We only have two viable options. We could either charge the valley with what is left of our forces, or take the old mountain pass. That has its own problems, however. We sent scouts up to secure the area, but we haven’t heard back from them. Neither option is ideal.”

            Leliana had walked over to the map at the center of the camp to show the company the terrain and Cassandra walked over to join her. Cassandra huffed and shook her head, “The pass would take too long, and it’s time we can’t afford. We should charge.”

            Leliana lowered her voice so they would not be overheard by the soldiers milling around, “We may not be successful in our charge. Our numbers have been steadily decreasing simply holding this position. All those who remain are young and inexperienced. We may not survive long enough to get to the Breach.”

            Cassandra was silent for a long moment while staring at the map. She finally sighed and glanced up at Ellana, who had been silently watching the two humans speak.

            “What do you think we should do?”

            Roderick began sputtering again but Cassandra lifted a hand and he begrudgingly quieted. Ellana raised her eyebrows, “You’re asking me?”

            “I am.” Cassandra affirmed, “You are the one who can close the rifts, and we cannot reach a decision on our own.”

            Ellana nodded her head and leaned against her staff while contemplating the map. She finally turned to look at the mountain before solemnly nodding.

            “We should take the pass.”

            Cassandra pushed herself off the table and said, “So be it, let us not waste any more time.”

            Leliana stayed behind and watched the group leave, she heard Roderick mumble, “On your head be the consequences Seeker.”

            Leliana didn’t see Cassandra react, though she knew that comment had hit. Cassandra was barking orders as she walked away, organizing the assault. After the majority of the soldiers had left, Leliana sent out orders for any scouts left in the field that could be reached to return. Leliana, for the first time on this very long day, had a moment to just breathe by herself. She didn’t let herself cry, not yet. But she really wanted to. 

            After what happened in the Deep Roads, Leliana had slipped into an alley and tried to hold back sobs. Surana had found her and held her and gave her permission to cry at the horror of what they had witnessed. Leliana hadn’t cried that much ever in her life and had not since. Surana had told her that the hurt, the feelings, they were what made us strong. It was okay to feel all of it, as long as we let it pass through us and let it go. Leliana didn’t know how long she sat in that alley with her best friend.

            “I could really use you now.” Leliana muttered.

            Leliana thought about Ellana Lavellan. The Dalish mage certainly hadn’t had the day she expected either. She woke up imprisoned and was immediately expected to fix one of the worst disasters in Thedas’s history. Leliana felt some pity for the woman. But then she reconsidered that pity. She thought about the woman. She had seen the woman’s calm confidence, her compassion, even her shock, but there was one thing she hadn’t seen.

            Fear.

            An interesting question if they all survived this.


	2. Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine tries to process what has happened.

            Josephine didn’t cry until she saw the burst of magic miles away fling itself up into the monstrous green vortex in the sky. She saw it calm, but remain stubbornly where it was.

           Then Josephine wept.  

           The weeks before the conclave had been a flurry of activity. Making sure that two sides of a continent wide war didn’t kill each other before the peace talks even begin was a difficult task. Josephine had reveled in it.  She did not believe in false modesty, and so she had no problem admitting that she was one of the best at what she did. It was, after all, why Leliana had brought her on. And yet, looking up at the Breach in the sky, Josephine felt useless. Leliana was out there fighting while Josephine was here, standing around and picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. She pulled a little too hard and a perfectly placed ruffle fell flat. 

            No. Josephine would not depreciate herself. She looked around the courtyard and forced her to witness what was happening around her. Soldiers lay on pallets in neat rows where they were being treated by the surviving Chantry Sisters. No Revered Mothers. They had all been at the temple. There was not a single Sister present that looked older than Josephine. Some of them had put on a determined face and gritted their teeth. Most looked as terrified as the soldiers they were treating. Many of the soldiers were screaming, some were praying, too many had fallen ominously silent. The silent ones looked more like monsters from the Breach than men, their skin blackened from burns, and Josephine doubted their mothers would be able to recognize them. This would make the funerals that much more difficult. 

            Suddenly Josephine had an idea, a way to be useful. She scanned the people running around her until she found a woman who looked like an officer and wasn’t bleeding out.  Josephine rushed over.

            “Madam, may I bother you for a moment?”

            The woman attempted to stand at attention but almost doubled over. Josephine quickly took hold of the woman’s arm and helped her sit back down. The woman nodded at her gratefully and asked, “What can I help you with ambassador Montilyet?”

            “Do you know if there are lists of soldiers who were serving at the conclave?”

            The woman thought for a moment and replied, “I believe Commander Cullen had a list. It may still be in his quarters. May I ask why you need it Ambassador? Can I be of any assistance?”

            “Do not concern yourself. You have already served bravely. Rest now. Thank you so much.”

            “Of course my Lady.”

            The officer placed her fist over her heart in salute and Josephine strode down the steps towards where Cullen had pitched his tent. The man had refused to sleep in the chantry while his soldiers had to sleep outside. 

            No one paid much attention to Josephine on her way. Too consumed with their own panic and grief. Josephine slipped into the commander’s tent and immediately walked over to the small desk.

            A shiver ran down Josephine’s spine as she realized she may well be poking through a dead friends desk. No one had heard from the commander as of yet, he had led a charge towards the Breach.

            She riffled through the papers on his desk only scanning the documents for what she needed. Finally she found a bound stack of papers in a drawer that had names on it as well as ages and where the soldiers came from. She took the papers and quickly returned to the main triage area in front of the chantry. There she began walking around to the conscious soldiers that had already been treated and began asking for names and checking them off. Some of the soldiers knew who was dead and Josephine place a small “x” next to those names. Too many were not yet twenty years of age. 

            Suddenly there was a commotion outside the gates. Soldiers burst into the area, screaming for bystanders to make room. Josephine’s heart seized in her chest. With strength born of desperation and fear she pushed her way through the crowd of soldiers until she saw who she was looking for. Leliana strode calm and imposing, ordering people around her to make ready for more injured. Josephine couldn’t truly hear what she was saying over the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears. Leliana was alright. Josephine took a single selfish moment to revel in the fact that her dearest friend had survived the horror. She could see the little tells on Leliana’s face that she was drained, but she was still walking and breathing and in control. She was okay. Josephine almost cried on the spot, but then she saw Cassandra marching in behind Leliana, carrying the prisoner. The woman’s dark skin was ashen now, and were it not for the terrifyingly slight movement in her chest, Josephine would have thought her dead. Much of her dark curly hair had come loose from its intricate braid. Purple bruises were already beginning to show on her face; particularly around her left eye that Josephine could now see was swollen shut. The elven apostate that had arrived earlier was walking close to the Seeker with his lightly glowing hands hovering over the prisoner’s head. 

            Leliana’s calm voice broke through the panic, “Josie. Is there a private area we can place her?” 

            Everything rushed back into focus as Josephine turned to face Leliana, “Yes, follow me.” Josephine led the group to a small hut that had an empty bed in it. Cassandra laid the prisoner in the bed and the apostate’s hands never wavered from their position above the woman. Leliana walked through the door with a box laden with medical supplies. She set it down and turned to Josephine, “Please go get Adan.”

            Josephine turned on the spot and rushed out the door back into the chaos outside. She stepped onto a box and scanned the hectic crowd. Whatever happened at the temple had caused many of the soldiers left in the valley to return to Haven. The population had more than doubled. Josephine finally spied the apothecary tending to a badly injured boy. Josephine felt her stomach twist, but she forced it down and rushed towards the man. 

            “Master Adan. You’re services are desperately needed to tend to the prisoner.” 

            The man looked up from the boy and regarded Josephine with disdain, “All due respect Ambassador, but my services are more needed here. If this boy doesn’t get surgery he could very well die.”

            Josephine looked down at the young boy. Andraste’s mercy he couldn’t be more than 15. He wore the flimsiest of armor and his shoes were worn and a little too big for him. He had likely lied about his age to join the Divine’s army. Josephine forced herself to imagine the faces of his mother and father, of his possible siblings, all waiting for him to come home. Josephine also remembered the urgency and slight fear on Leliana’s face when she told her to get Adan. She thought of the way Cassandra’s eyes flitted around when she first returned to haven with the limp prisoner. The creased brow and a slight frown on the apostates face while his hands tried to mend the prisoner, he had been sweating from effort. Then she swallowed the bile in her throat, turned to the apothecary and said with a tight voice, “Master Adan, your services are more needed with the prisoner.”

            The man stared at her for a moment, the anger evident on his face.

            “He is a child.”

            “Your services,” Josephine’s voice cracked slightly, “are more needed with the prisoner.”

            The man glared at her but stood, “Fine.”

            He looked around until he spotted a sister walking by with a basin of dirty water. He shouted, “You there! See to this boy! A claw nicked an artery. He is losing blood quickly and the wound is most certainly infected.”

            The sister looked a little panicked but rushed over. Adan turned back to Josephine and said, “Take me to her.”

            Josephine turned on her heel and didn’t look back to see if Adan was following. If she did she would also see the boy she had almost certainly just condemned. She held back tears. That would have to wait until later. She had to be strong right now, like Leliana. When they reached the hut Adan brushed past her and into the building without a word. Josephine didn’t follow. Leliana emerged a few moments later. Leliana took one look at Josephine and grabbed her hand, leading her to a secluded nook before hugging her tightly. 

            “It’s okay, there’s nothing more we can do right now.”

           Josephine began to cry again. She wept and wept and wept into her friend's shoulder. She clutched her like if she let go she would fall apart.

            “He was treating a little boy,” Josephine hiccupped, “He’s going to die now, if he’s not already dead.”

            “That isn’t your fault Josie.”

            “But I told Adan to come treat the prisoner-“

            “After I told you to. If a sin has been committed here it has been committed by me. Not you.”

            “But-”

            “Her name is Ellana Lavellan. She didn’t cause the explosion, but she did almost die trying to close the breach. She was not forced to do so. She volunteered. She is kind and brave. She stopped on the way to the temple so she could save some scouts. She chose that path instead of a charge, which would have been safer for her, because she couldn’t abandon those soldiers to die. Adan is saving a good person. It is unfortunate that we only have one of him, so he can only save so many good people, and not all of them. Do you hear me Josie?

            Josephine sniffed and nodded.

            “I would like to write to the boys family.”

            “We will write to all the families.”

            Josephine nodded again and leaned back into the hug. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the arms of her closest friend. Finally she pulled away and wiped her eyes. She smoothed the fabric of her blouse, straightened her posture, and tried to regain her composure. 

            “The woman, Ellana, I saw she had facial tattoos. Is she Dalish?”

            Leliana nodded, “Yes, and a mage. She’s young, so likely she is the First of her Clan.”

            “First to do what?”

            Leliana chuckled, “No, she is the First. It’s what the Dalish call the chief apprentice to their keeper. The mage who leads a clan. Also the tattoos are called vallaslin, it means blood writing. It’s religious in nature and denotes which of their gods they dedicated themselves to upon reaching maturity.”

            With something else to think about now, Josephine began to calm, “Ah, it seems I have some studying to do then before she wakes up. I do not wish to offend her.”

            “I suspect she won’t wake today. I’ll tell you what I know after supper. I also have a book by Brother Genitivi that may be useful. Pretty much anything else you would read is hateful propaganda.”

            “Thank you. She will be staying then?”

            “We believe she is likely the only one who can seal rifts, and this is far from over, so yes.”

            “I see.” Josephine thought for a moment before realizing, “Oh, I should also try to contact her Clan, let them know she’s alright. If she occupies an important position they must be worried.”

            “They would be worried regardless, the Dalish are small in number so every member of a Clan is important. Contacting them may be difficult however, if her Clan doesn’t wish to be found they won’t be.”

            Josephine deflated, “Oh. I really do need your lessons it seems.”

            Leliana placed a hand on Josephine’s shoulder and gave her a crooked smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll have you speaking elvish by the time she wakes up.”

            Josephine chuckled and allowed Leliana to lead her back into the fray. That would be tonight. Now there was work to do.

  
  



	3. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting is held and a little bit more is learned about the survivor's motives.

          In the three days since the explosion, Cullen still hadn’t managed to identify all of the dead. The first priority had of course been ensuring the safety of the survivors. Scouts had been working in shifts to hunt down demons still in the valley. Soldiers that could stand had been deployed to dispatch them, but only in large groups. They had to cover each other; they couldn’t afford to lose any more people. Josephine’s help had been invaluable in identifying the dead and writing to the families. Cullen was writing out another note of condolence when a young page appeared inside his tent and stood at attention.

            “Commander, the… survivor is awake.”

            “Thank you, let Seeker Pentaghast know I will meet her shortly in the Chantry.”

            The young boy saluted and quickly turned on his heel to deliver the message. Cullen had heard the pause in the boy’s voice. The survivor. People around Haven were already beginning to use a different name. Cullen had expressly forbade his soldiers to use this new title, not until she woke up. But that moment was here now. This would be an interesting conversation. Cullen tidied his desk and left for the chantry. Word had already spread through camp that the woman, Ellana, was awake. Crowds were gathering around her hut, barely even trying to stay quiet. The crowds made room for Cullen to pass through but just barely. Cullen briefly considering ordering the people to disperse, but he didn’t really think it would help. As soon as he left they would regroup. Everyone wanted to see her.

            The Herald of Andraste.

            As soon as he reached the relative privacy of the chantry he closed the door behind him and rested his head against it. He could already feel a headache coming on. He breathed. In and out. Counted to five. Counted to ten. One more breath. Cullen sighed and pushed himself off the door and turned to walk to the room that they had been using as a command center. Leliana stood behind him. Cullen would never admit to jumping, just a little.

            “Commander.”

            Cullen eyed the spymaster, “Leliana.”

            It wasn’t that Cullen didn’t trust Leliana. He did, he would trust her with his life. She was the best at what she did. That didn’t stop him from always being slightly unnerved by her presence. She had a knack for knowing everything and that made him nervous. It was the same feeling he had experienced when he was young and his mother used his full name. Leliana inspired the same knot in his stomach. She smiled at the commander in a way that made Cullen think she knew exactly what he had been thinking, then turned and walked towards the room at the far end of the Chantry. She didn’t look back to make sure Cullen was following. He was. Cassandra and Josephine were already there, joined, to Cullen’s annoyance, by Chancellor Roderick.

            “Have you gone completely mad? She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately,” Roderick bellowed, “to be tried by whoever becomes Divine!”

            Cassandra shook her head, “I do not believe she is guilty.”

            Roderick scoffed and continued, “The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way!”

            Cassandra’s voice stayed calm but Cullen could see the little lines emerging at the side of her eyes, “I do not believe that.”

            “That is not for you to decide!”

            Cullen shook his head, arguing with that man was not a fight they could win. The former Templar was the first to hear the knock at the door. It was slight at first, but then a second more insistent knock followed.

            Cullen’s brow creased before he called, “Come in.”

            The door opened and Cullen got his first look at the survivor. Ellana, he reminded himself. She was taller than many of the elves Cullen had met in the circle, likely the same height as Josephine. Her face devoted most of its space to her large unusually green eyes and a long, straight nose that seemed to descend more from her lower brow than the middle of her face. Many of the elves Cullen had known would do things to hide how different they looked from humans, but not this woman. Her dark curls were pulled back away from her face in an intricate braid that proudly showed off her features. Her eyes and nose were highlighted by the branching lines of her tattoos that covered almost her entire forehead and nose. A line from the bottom of the nose extended over her lips and down to a smaller design on her chin. From there more roots branched down her neck in complex designs. The lines on her high, prominent cheekbones seemed to point directly to her large drooped ears laden with little earrings, some of which had little chains connecting them. She was dressed now in what Cullen guessed was likely daily Dalish garb. The leather looked sturdy and functional, but the green cloak that wrapped around her had more intricate gold detailing with little gold pins that kept it close to her in certain places, allowing it to drape in a way that made it seem that this piece was more sentimental than necessary. The cloak also made her look slightly larger than she really was. Her inhumanely long fingers were laced loosely in front of her. She smiled gently and Cullen realized he’d been staring.

            “Hello, I apologize for interrupting, but I understand you all wanted to speak with me.”

            “Chain her!” Chancellor Roderick shouted, “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”

            Cassandra shouted louder, “Disregard that and leave us!”

            The guards listened to Cassandra. Ellana watched it all quietly. Chancellor Roderick blustered for a moment before hissing, “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

            Cassandra stood even taller and said, “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

            “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave.” Leliana said, “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others, or have allies who yet live.”

            Roderick looked like Leliana had struck him, “I am a suspect?”

            “You,” Leliana confirmed, “and many others.”

            “But _not_ the prisoner?”

            “I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her help.” Cassandra turned then to look at Ellana.

            Roderick sputtered on, “So her survival, that thing on her hand- all a coincidence?”

            Cassandra’s eyes never left Ellana’s, “Providence.” Cassandra finally turned back to Roderick, “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

            The elven woman’s ears twitched slightly and for the first time she looked a little unnerved. She just stared at Cassandra silently. Leliana’s voice softened slightly when addressing Ellana, “The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it.”

            “That is not for you to decide!” Roderick bellowed.

            Cassandra calmly walked to a shelf in the back of the room and picked up a heavy tome. She stared at it for a moment before gripping the edges firmly and slamming it down on the table. She was deadly calm and asked Roderick, “You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.”

            No one breathed for a moment before she finished solemnly, “As of this moment, _I_ declare the Inquisition reborn.”

            She advanced on Roderick and continued, “We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible. And we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

            Roderick stared at Cassandra in shock for a moment before turning to leave, only pausing to glare at Ellana. The door slammed heavy behind him. No one breathed for a moment.

            “So,” Ellana said, “we are saving the world then?”

            Cassandra sighed, “That is the idea. Will you help us?”

            “Of course I will.”

            The slightest bit of relief showed on Cassandra’s face when she extended her hand to Ellana, who quickly took hold firmly. The seekers posture relaxed some before she turned towards Cullen and Josephine. Cullen breathed for the first time since he walked into the room. Cassandra introduced Cullen first.

            “May I present Commander Cullen, the leader of our forces.”

            Cullen grimaced and remembered all of the horrible letters he’d had to send in the past three days, “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley. I fear we will lose many more before this is over.”

            Ellana looked at him sadly and said softly, “Ar Abelas. May Falon’Din guide them.”

            It had been a long time since Cullen had heard anyone speak elven, not since he was in the Circle at Lake Callahan. From what he knew of the Dalish he certainly hadn’t expect her to ask her gods for anything on behalf of human. He could only sputter out a quiet, “Thank you.”

            Cassandra moved on to Josephine next, “This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

            “Andaran atish’an.”

            Josephine had been practicing getting the pronunciation right for the past two days for this moment, but following a native speaker it still sounded a little clunky. Ellana didn’t seem to mind, “Enaste. Do you speak elven?”

            “I’m afraid you’ve just heard the entirety of it.”

            Finally Cassandra turned to Leliana, “And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

            Leliana shifted slightly and said, “My position here involves a certain degree of-“

            “She is our spymaster.” Cassandra interrupted.

            Leliana rolled her eyes, “Yes. Tactfully put Cassandra.”

            Ellana looked around the room again and smiled, “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

            Cassandra spoke again, “I have spoken with Solas, he believes a second attempt to close the Breach might succeed, provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open it in the first place.”

            Leliana nodded, “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”

            Cullen shook his head, “And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

            Cassandra turned to Cullen, “I understand your reservations but we need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”

            “Could destroy us all.” Cullen closed his eyes and saw the pillars of light coming out of the chantry in Kirkwall, his headache worsened when he opened his eyes again, “ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

            “Unfortunately,” Josephine spoke up before the argument could continue, “Neither group will even speak to us yet. Word has already spread to the Chantry of what has happened here… and what some are calling you.” The last sentence was directed at Ellana.

            “What are they calling me?”

            Cassandra answered her, “The Herald of Andraste.”

            Ellana went still. Cullen saw her ears twitch slightly again and he was beginning to think it was a tell. Ellana spoke slowly and carefully, “That is an interesting idea. May I ask why?”

            “People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you.” Cassandra paused then, “They believe that was Andraste.”

            Ellana’s face was blank while she stared at Cassandra. Cullen finally asked, “How do you feel about the title?”

            Ellana slowly pulled her eyes away from Cassandra to look at him, “I believe… they have the wrong impression.”

            Cullen chuckled slightly and Ellana’s shoulders lost some of their tension, “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

            Leliana did not laugh, “The people are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you are that sign.”

            “And to others,” Josephine added, “A symbol of everything that has gone wrong.”

            The woman seemed genuinely kind and willing to help, and Cullen sympathized with the amount of change being thrown at her in one sitting, but one question wouldn’t leave Cullen alone, “If I may, why were you even attending the Conclave? The mage and Templar conflict seems to primarily affect, well, humans.”

            Cullen could sense Josephine glaring at him. Ellana’s ears dropped slightly before she answered, “I’m sure it seems like that to you all. Unfortunately, however, that is not the case. The world is in a state of chaos because of the conflict, and chaos gives people leave to act on their worst impulses. Violence against The People has risen exponentially since the onset of the war.” Ellana paused a moment to gather herself before continuing, “One month ago a group of Templars attacked a Dalish clan, accusing them of harboring maleficarum. They murdered almost the entire clan. They left only the children alive, but they did not leave until they-”

            Ellana had to stop again and looked at the ceiling, no one in the room breathed, “They… clipped the children’s ears. Cut them almost in half.”

            “Maker.” Cullen muttered and closed his eyes. What had happened to the Order?

            Ellana continued, “The Elithem Sul’anasha Istimaethoriel decided that we could no longer ignore the war and hope that the Clans would be able to find a way to hide until it was over. She sent me to speak to your Divine on behalf of The People.” She turned to Josephine then, “Speaking of which, as soon as possible I would like to send word back to her that I am alright. If word has not reached her yet of what has happened it will soon, and I do not want her to worry.”

            Josephine nodded quickly, “Of course. I am so sorry. I did not realize that the situation had grown so dangerous for your people.”

            “I was heartbroken when I heard about what happened, but not surprised.” Ellana shook her head, “When people are treated like animals, it becomes simpler to slaughter them as such.”

            Cullen thought he was going to be sick. He knew how vulnerable elves could be in times of conflict. He had seen it first hand in Kirkwall. During the uprising Lowtown had nearly been burned to the ground. Last he heard the Alienage still hadn’t recovered completely. He had seen the report of how many died that day, remembered the startling high amount of elves on the list. That was only one day of outright fighting. He should have seen this coming.

            “And what happened to the children? After?” Josephine asked quietly, breaking the silence.

            “They are at our temple. They are safe.”

            “Your temple?” Leliana asked, intrigued.

            Cullen could see Cassandra’s frown deepening; he knew what she thought Ellana was. He also knew Ellana’s devotion to her own religion would not please the Seeker. He turned back to Ellana, “I cannot say how sorry I am for what happened. It is further proof of how desperately we need to close the Breach and restore order.”

            Cassandra nodded, “Agreed. We have heard from a Chantry Cleric by the name of Mother Giselle. She has asked to speak to you and she is not far.”

            Leliana chimed in, “Her assistance could be invaluable, and she knows those involved far better than I do.”

            “If you believe it is wise I will depart shortly.” Ellana turned to Cassandra, “Would you accompany me Seeker?”

            Cassandra nodded curtly, “Of course.”

            Cullen looked at his comrades before looking back at Ellana, “All right then. Lets get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish used  
> Ar Abelas: I’m sorry  
> Andaran Atish’an: You are welcome here  
> Enaste: Blessings upon your house  
> Elithem Sul’anasha: Chief Priest  
> \----  
> Oof, that was a lot longer than the others. Also a lot of exposition. Sorry. This just seemed like the best place to put it. Next chapter we get Cassandra's perspective and introduce some new friends.


	4. Cassandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party goes for a ride.

          The ragtag group set out shortly after the morning meeting. Cassandra rode in the front of their little party, the two elves rode next to each other, and Varric brought up the rear. They had been riding for a few hours now and the Herald had evidently given up trying to speak to Solas, for now. She had simply been observing the countryside, though Cassandra didn’t think there was much to see. It had been nothing but fields and forest since they had descended down the mountains. The Crossroads couldn’t be more than another two hour ride away, or that was Cassandra’s prayer anyway.

            “So,” Varric spoke up from the back, “I got a question for our Blessed Lady here.”

            “The Blessed Lady is accepting questions at the moment, so shoot.” The Herald said with complete seriousness.

            Cassandra scowled, “Ugh.”

            Varric ignored her, “What does _man’madh_ mean?”

            Solas and the Herald both snorted, the Herald asked, “Can I ask the context for it? That is important to translation you know.”

            “Yeah I’m sure. A friend of mine back in Kirkwall. She came from a Dalish clan. I bought her a drink her first night. She took a sip of it, made a face, and said it was _man’madh_. I asked her what that meant and she said it meant ‘tasty’. She was a terrible liar, and that seems like too long of a word to mean ‘tasty’.”

            “Well our language is very different from common, so you can’t expect the word structures to have any similarities. But you are right however. It doesn’t mean ‘tasty’.”

            Cassandra fell back to join the group, interested in the answer despite herself.

            “So what does it mean?” Varric asked, the road wide enough for all of them to ride four abreast.

            The Herald glanced at Solas and then back at Varric before answering, “Piss water.”

            Varric looked aghast and Solas chuckled. The Herald just smiled. The group rode up to a short canyon that forced them to ride single file. Cassandra eyed the brush and trees all around the tops of the cliffs and felt her stomach turn. She had been a warrior long enough to trust her instincts. She called back, “We should hurry.”

            The Seeker pushed her horse to a quick trot; the narrow passage didn’t allow her to go any faster. She could hear the others pick up the pace behind her. They were almost through when Cassandra’s horse started snorting and prancing nervously. If she hadn’t been such an experienced rider she might have been unseated. An elven man in full armor strode into view at the exit of the canyon. Cassandra couldn’t make out much of his face because of the helmet he wore, but she could see his amber eyes glaring at her. She could see his hand on the pommel of his sword.

            Cassandra drew her sword and called to her companions, “Back up.”

            Varric yelled from the back, “We might have a problem with that.”

            Cassandra risked a glance behind her over the heads of her companions. Another elf stood at the entrance of the canyon. They wore dark brown leather armor with a black shroud wrapped around their head and face. Only their ears and eyes were visible. They held a lowered bow with an arrow nocked and ready. Varric pulled out his crossbow, but Cassandra knew he wouldn’t be able to get a good shot from his current position. The man at the exit called out, “Release your prisoner now. Or I could kill you all and release her myself. Your choice.”

            Cassandra’s mental preparation for battle came to a screeching halt, “Excuse me?”

            “What’s happening up there?” The Herald had ridden closer to Cassandra to try and see what was going on.

            She peered around Cassandra and her eyes crinkled in confusion, this was the first time Cassandra had seen her not be completely in control of her expression. “Sahren? Is that you?” She turned in her saddle and looked past Solas and Varric, “Rasa? What are you two doing here?”

            Cassandra whipped her head back to look at the Herald and ground out, “Herald, do you know these people?”

            The one the Herald had called Sahren spoke up, “Raj’ha’haren, Enir surem shala enas. Telir rajathe em dala esh’ala.”

            Cassandra didn’t understand his words, but she understood him drawing his sword. Before she could ride forward she heard the Herald shout behind her, “Te!”

            The man looked confused, but sheathed his sword again. Cassandra was so focused on him that she nearly struck the Herald when she placed a hand on the Seeker’s leg. She had gotten off her horse and was now moving past her to the elven man. She heard her murmur, “Atishan, falon. Ame te’son.”

            The man glanced uneasily at Cassandra and back to the Herald, “Dir’vhen’an?”

            She nodded and placed her hands on his shoulder.

            “Hey!” The elf in the back yelled, “Are we killing them or not?”

            “You are not!” The Herald yelled back.

            The Herald and the elf moved out of the way and Cassandra rode forward. She was suspicious of these people, but her previous rush to judgment still burned in her mind. She hadn’t trusted the Herald at first either. She forced herself not to glare at the elf. Varric would never let her live it down if she threatened another future ally at their first meeting. The Herald’s horse followed Cassandra, as did Solas and Varric. The other strange elf brought up the rear. Once everyone had dismounted and gathered the Herald spoke again, “Please allow me to introduce my dear friends, Sahren and his sibling Rasa.”

            The elf in the armor took off his helmet and extended out the hand not holding it to Cassandra, his sibling pulled down their face scarf so Cassandra could see their face. The two elves relationship was now apparent; their facial features were almost exactly the same. They had the same prominent brow and nose of many elves, but their faces were softer than the Herald’s. They couldn’t be older than 22. What distinguished them the most were the tattoos. Rasa’s face was completely bare while their brother’s face was… decidedly not. Half of the man’s face was covered with lines that looked like vines with thorns, the other half had been almost entirely shaded in with the exception of a reversed image of the design on the other half of the face. Cassandra took his outstretched hand and answered him, “Hello, I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.”

            The elf shook her hand but glanced nervously back at the Herald who just nodded and smiled. As Cassandra let go of his hand she remembered the report the Herald had described about the clan that had been killed. She focused on making sure her hands were visible and nowhere near her sword. The others introduced themselves and the Herald turned back to the other elves, “While I’m happy to see you, I must ask what you’re doing here?”

            Rasa spoke up, “Word traveled fast about the explosion at the human Conclave. The Elithem Sul’anasha’an were worried about you and sent us to either find you or find out what happened to you. We arrived at the site of the explosion and found you, but you were unconscious and being carried by the big woman. We followed you all back to your camp, but there were too many humans, we couldn’t get to you. We knew you’d find a way to separate yourself eventually, and we were mostly right!”

            “Except about you being a prisoner. “ Sahren added in helpfully.

            “Yes except that. So here we are, big rescue.”

            “I appreciate it.”

            Sahren replaced his helmet on his head and said, “Well, I’m glad you are alright. Shall we go now?”

           The Herald nodded and looked at the road in front of them, “Yes, we should get moving. The Crossroads is still two hours away most likely, and I want to reach it well before sunset.”

            Sahren looked at his sibling, who just shrugged. He looked back at the Herald, “I’m sorry Raj’ha’haren, but why are we going there?”

            “Because that is where we will find Mother Giselle. I will fill you in on the way. Do you have your own mounts?”

            Cassandra didn’t realize she had tensed up until she felt her shoulders relax. She didn’t know what she would have done if the Herald had decided to pick up and leave with these strange elves that she knew. She was instrumental in the plan to close the Breach, but it would not have felt right to hold her hostage. The Seeker would likely also be forced to kill her friends too if that happened. She didn’t want to think about it. But she had been wrong again in her assumption that the Herald would leave. She volunteered once to help, knowing it could kill her. She had held a staff as Cassandra strode in front of her. She had walked freely around camp. She had a multitude of opportunities to turn her head away from the violence and danger and simply run away. She had not. She had faced it head on. She didn’t flinch. One of these days the Seeker would have to learn to trust her. She was an honorable woman.

            _She is a heretic._

            The unbidden and shameful thought bubbled up in Cassandra’s mind before she could stop it. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but that didn’t make it go away. Every time Cassandra looked at the Herald and the twisting, elegant lines on her face the thought crept beneath the surface. How can the Herald of Andraste be a heretic? Cassandra had been scrambling for an explanation since the belief had first asserted itself days ago. Could this be a test from the Maker? If so, who was it testing? The Herald or Cassandra? What was it a test of?

            Sahren and Rasa rejoined the group on a pair of beautiful halla. Cassandra had never seen halla that tall before. Cassandra’s head just rose above their shoulder. They towered over the elves. They gleamed so bright in the afternoon sun they almost seemed to emit light themselves. They were not saddled and there was no bridle on their heads. The two elves carried their own light packs on their backs. The horns were long and when Cassandra looked closely she could see intricate designs carved onto them. The most worn and rudimentary carvings were at the tip and became more detailed and precise as they extended down with room at the base for more carvings. A third Halla followed them out of the brush. It was around the same size of the others but the horns were slightly longer and had gold leaf pressed into the carvings in its horns. The Herald walked up to it and pressed her face to its nose.

            “I missed you Maelle.” She looked up at her friends, “Where did you find her?”

            Rasa answered her; “We met up with her in the woods outside the explosion. You made her antsy with that whole ‘almost dying thing’.”

            The Herald turned back to the halla, “I’m sorry I made you nervous.”

            The halla snorted loudly. It kneeled its front leg down so the Herald could climb on top. She climbed onto the animals back with the ease of someone who had done it many times, and took the lead at the front of the party. The siblings flanked her and the horse the Herald had been riding followed behind them. Solas rode past Cassandra to join them. Cassandra pulled herself back onto her horse, feeling suddenly clumsy. Varric rode up next to her and whispered, “Did we just get replaced?”

            “Now Varric,” The Herald called back without turning back, “You know I would never replace my favorite dwarf.”

            “I’m the only dwarf you know!” Varric hollered.

            Cassandra shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. She was trying very hard not to let her suspicious nature get the better of her. She could see Rasa’s ear had angled back slightly. It seemed the Seeker wasn’t the only one uneasy with the forced alliance. Varric piped up next to Cassandra, “So, how do you all know our Blessed Lady? Are you from the same clan?”

            At the same time Sahren answered, “Yes.” The Herald said, “No.”

            Sahren swung his head to look at the Herald but didn’t say anything else. The Herald continued, “They are both ha’haren. Rasa serves Dirthamen and Sahren serves Elgar’nan.”

            “Raj’ha’haren, I don’t mean to contradict you but are sure about this?” Sahren hissed from the Herald’s right.

            “I am, it does us no good to deceive our allies.” The Herald answered simply.

            Rasa had their arms crossed across their halla’s neck and was leaning forward against it, grinning like a lunatic, “Oh this is gonna be great. Do the Elithem Sul’anasha’an know you’re doing this?”

            The Herald shifted slightly on her halla’s back, “Some.”

            “So just Elithem Sul’anasha Istimaethoriel?”

            “She is a wise woman.”

            Rasa began to cackle and Sahren looked like he wanted to scream. Cassandra noticed for the first time that Solas seemed tense. Varric asked, “Hey quick question from the dwarf? What are all those words you keep using?”     

            Before Sahren could give what Cassandra was sure would be some vague not-answer, the Herald spoke up, “They are titles in our priesthoods. If we were to compare them to the Chantry Sahren and Rasa would be similar to Mothers. The Elithem Sul’anasha’an are like Divines. We have eight gods, each has it’s own Elithem Sul’anasha. A simple translation would be Chief Priest.”

            Cassandra finally asked the question that had been burning in her mind, “So what is your title?”

            “She is a Raj’ha’haren.” Sahren said proudly.

            “It’s like a Grand Cleric.” The Herald finished.

            She was a Grand Cleric.

            _A heretical Grand Cleric._

“Yeah, if there was only one Grand Cleric.” Rasa muttered.

            What?

            “What?” Varric asked.

            “Each Elithem Sul’anasha has a chosen Raj’ha’haren who is like a secretary or personal assistant-”

            “A successor.” Sahren said plainly.

            The Herald shot him a long suffering look, “There is no guarantee, the ha’haren’an could pick any one of our numbers.”

            Rasa nodded, “Yeah sure they could, but when in the last few hundred years have they chosen someone other than the Raj’ha’hare? A handful times? How many times have the priests of Mythal not picked the Raj’ha’haren? You are known for your good judgment, you know. It would just be embarrassing to admit your Elithem Sul’anasha made a mistake in their choice.”

            Solas huffed but the other elves in the party didn’t seem to notice. Instead Sahren said, “Exactly, which is why it is so important that you return with us after we find this ‘Mother Giselle’. Let the humans sort out their own affairs.”

            “That’s how we get Exalted Marches.” The Herald responded, “Besides, I don’t have much of an option.”

            The Herald took off her glove and showed her companions the glowing green anchor on her hand. Sahren gasped and for the first time Rasa looked serious.

            “What is that?” Sahren hissed.

            “I’m not sure yet,” The Herald answered, “but I’m working on it. In the meantime it seems to be the only thing that can close the Breach and the smaller rifts. There isn’t anyone else who can do this. I have to stay. If I don’t the Breach will grow until it swallows the world. Last I checked, that would be bad for the elvhen. Do you agree?”

            Sahren looked down and muttered, “Yes.”

            “Don’t mumble Sahren.”

            Sahren raised his head and said louder, “Yes, Raj’ha’haren, I understand.”

            The Herald nodded, “Good. Now let’s hurry. We don’t know what awaits us at the Crossroads, and I am eager to find out.”

            Sahren and Rasa spoke in unison, “Yes Raj’ha’haren.”

            The group rode on.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, lot's of elvhen in this one.  
> Sahren- One who will command respect  
> Rasa- Snake like  
> Raj’ha’haren- High priest  
> Enir surem shala enas- We have come to save you.  
> Telir rajathe em dala esh’ala – Simply tell me to kill them.  
> Te- Don’t  
> Atishan, falon. Ame te’son - Peace, friend. I am alright.  
> Dir’vhen’an?- Promise?  
> Elithem Sul’anasha’an- The Chief Priests (plural)  
> Maelle- light of our mother  
> ha’haren(‘an)- priest/s


	5. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric has a little check in.

          Varric never minded much just sitting and watching the world pass by, as long as the world was interesting. At the present he was sitting on a bench with his back against a wall while tuning up Bianca. He watched as the activity in Haven ebbed and flowed around him. Thedas’s second weirdest company got back from the Hinterland this morning after spending a week running all around those hills. Mother Giselle had been nice enough, didn’t want to execute the Herald on the spot. Small improvements. Even didn’t think she should be jailed for the rest of her life just for being a mage. Honestly the woman was a bit of a radical.

            The killing bad guys who hurt innocent people, hunting down supplies for refugees, and even closing rifts became a little routine while they had been in the Hinterlands. It got a bit monotonous. The fun part was watching everyone try to get along. No one knew each other really, not even the original group from Haven. Varric hadn’t met Chuckles until they both got caught up in a fight together in the aftermath of the Breach. Varric knew Cassandra of course, but they weren’t exactly the best of friends. Throw in some very weird Dalish elves and a woman accused of being the worlds last and best hope, and you’ve got yourself a party. The two new elves in their party kept muttering back and forth to each other in elvhen, which put the Seeker on edge. The Herald tried to keep the peace by insisting that the twins speak in common, but Solas almost ruined the whole thing when he agreed because, “Your pronunciation needs work.”

            The big elf reminded Varric a little of Fenris when he almost ripped the mages head off. It made him a little homesick.

            Just then Varric saw the Blessed Lady herself walking back to her cabin. She was smiling and greeting people along the way. She exuded a calm energy that was desperately needed around Haven. Having a potentially world ending catastrophe kill all of your religious leaders only two weeks ago could have that sort of effect on morale. She reminded Varric a little of Elthina. Or maybe what Elthina should have been. When she came close to him, Varric noticed the small crease between her eyes that she was trying to hide. When she got to the door of her cabin he saw her shoulders sag just a little before going inside.

            Varric set Bianca aside and stood. He supposed even holy saviors needed pep talks occasionally, and if Varric had one talent it was convincing people to do things. Sometimes it was convincing them to give him money or information, but with his friends it was usually just convincing them they weren’t in as bad a spot as they thought they were.

            Varric knocked on the door to her cabin and only had to wait a moment before the Herald was opening the door. She looked a little tired, but when she saw who it was she smiled and stepped aside so Varric could walk in. She’d managed to make the place pretty cozy. Small candles were clustered on almost every surface with a large cluster on either end of the mantle opposite the door. On the mantle were eight small wooden figurines. They had simple designs on them, but they were still beautiful. The largest one looked kind of like a dragon and had a single red candle lit in front of it. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace and Varric thought he might actually have to take off his coat to keep from passing out from the heat.

            The Herald noticed him sweating and said, “I’m not used to the cold. I don’t think I’m built for it. May I?”

            The elf held out her hand and Varric gave her his coat. She wasn’t wearing her armor so he saw her hands for the first time. The vallaslin were broken up on her fingers by several dainty gold rings, some were all woven together.

            “I didn’t think Dalish got vallaslin past their faces.” Varric commented while he sat down at the small table she had one side of the little room.

            “Most don’t.” She hung his coat on a knob next to the door and walked over to get some water and cups from her bedside table, “Only priests get more extensive ones. The more extensive the tattoos, the higher rank the priest.”

            She set the water and cups on the table and sat across from the dwarf, “Tea?”

            “Yes please.”

            She reached across the table to grab a small wooden box in the center, opened it, and grabbed two blocks of tea out of it. She put a block in each cup, poured water in after, and then took hold of the cups. After a moment Varric could see the water begin to bubble and steam rise out of it. She handed Varric his still warm cup and said, “I apologize, I don’t have any milk or sugar.”

            Varric waved her off, “That’s alright. It’s not stream water or cheap ale, so it’s an improvement to what I’ve been drinking the past few days.”

            Varric took a sip and was happy to discover he had not been falsely optimistic. It was good, tasted a little like berries. The Herald took a sip of her tea before setting it back down and looking up at Varric, “So what can I help you with Mr. Tethras?”

            Varric chuckled, “Nothing.”

            Varric wouldn’t say the Herald looked shocked; maybe mild confusion would be more accurate. He continued, “You looked stressed and I decided to swing by to see if you needed to chat. Do you?”

            The Herald leaned back in her chair and took another sip of tea. Finally she sighed and nodded.

            “Okay then, lets start with names. Mr. Tethras is my father, everyone just calls me Varric.” Varric took a sip of his tea, “And, if you can believe it, in all the hubbub I didn’t catch your name. Cassandra and Solas call you Herald, the twins call you Rajha-whatever, but I don’t think I’ve heard someone use your actual name once.”

            The Herald looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, “I think you’re right.” She extended a hand across the table, “Ellana of Clan Lavellan.”

            Varric took her hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you Ellana of Clan Lavellan, been nice fighting with you for the past week.”

            “Likewise.”

            “So, you said that the twins are part of a different priesthood from you, right?”

            “Yes.”

            “So how did you meet them? You seem to know them pretty well. Do you all serve in one place or…”

            Varric wasn’t trying to pry- no that was lie. Varric was always trying to pry. He wasn’t trying to be invasive. However, he was really curious about these Dalish that seemed very different from the ones he had met. Daisy would get a kick out of them.

            Ellana smiled and said, “No. We all live at different temples. I met them when they were much younger. I was sixteen when I first joined the priesthood, and the twins arrived a few weeks after I took my vows. They had been orphaned, and they were only nine years old. I had been having a hard time settling into temple life so the Raj’ha’haren at the time assigned me to look after them while they got settled. She thought it would be good for all of us. She was right, as usual. Helping them get settled helped me to understand my own place in the temple a little better. I wound up practically raising those two. When they were seventeen they decided that the priesthood of Mythal wasn’t for them, and they went off to join different temples. I was invited to both of their initiations. I was so proud.”

            Ellana smiled to herself and took another sip of her tea. The smile only lasted a moment before the small crinkle appeared on her forehead again.

            Varric put his now empty cup down, “They’re your kids.”

            “As a priestess of Mythal I have had a hand in raising many children who came to our temple… but yes. Those two were special.”

            “And now they’re here.”

            “And now they’re here.”

            “Well shit, that can’t be easy.”

            Throughout the conversation Varric could see Ellana relax bit by bit, but now she almost slumped forward.

            “It’s not. I was the one who volunteered to take this risk. To come to the Conclave. After everything happened, I understood that I needed to stay and help; I had accepted the dangers because I needed to. But they don’t have to be here. They can go home. Be safe.”

            “You could tell them to leave.”

            “They wouldn’t listen, and I’d probably offend them. As much as I worry, they are both extremely capable. I just wish Sahren would stop picking at Cassandra. She’s uncomfortable enough as is. And Mythal give me strength if Rasa tries to pickpocket Leliana one more time. The Nightingale might actually have them killed.”

            “Or recruit them.”

            That got a chuckle out of her. While Ellana made Varric some more tea he asked, “So, what’s the scariest thing right now? Other than the obvious possibility of death and dismemberment.”

            “Well other than that.” Ellana handed him his tea, “I suppose it’s all the walking on egg shells. I’m not ashamed to talk about my people or my beliefs, as I suppose you’ve guessed by now.”

            Varric nodded an affirmative as Ellana continued, “But I’m still so nervous constantly that if I don’t mix in the right amount of deferment, agree just enough that ‘sure, maybe your goddess sent me’ that they’d get a little too frustrated and…”

            “They’re not going to kill you.”

            Ellana sighed and her shoulders slumped, “I know, but you didn’t say it had to be a reasonable fear. I’ve seen what humans will do when elves get a little to elvhen for their tastes. It rarely ends well. I was talking to Josephine the other day and bless her she was trying to talk to me about my people and ask questions, but she had so many misconceptions drilled into her brain. Scary ones. Is it terrible that I don’t always want to have to be the perfect elf? Back home I am a leader among my people, but I’m a leader on my own terms. They know me, and I can be myself. I was the youngest priest in a very long time to be chosen as Raj’ha’haren, and that didn’t come without a lot of hard work. But does Cassandra care? Does Cullen? No. They’d rather I stayed quiet about the whole elf thing and focus only on the Breach. Afterwards they can look back on their elf friend and clap themselves on the back about how _tolerant_ they were with her.”

            As she had been talking her voice had gotten louder and angrier. When she finished she realizer her volume and took a deep breath to compose herself. Varric could see her walls going back up as she said, “I apologize I shouldn’t have-”

            “Bull shit you shouldn’t have. It’s okay to vent. It’s okay to be pissed about this whole situation. And I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and say that you shouldn’t worry and that you can be completely yourself, because you’re right, you can’t. But I will say I think you may be giving our compatriots too little credit. She may not seem like it, but I think Cassandra wouldn’t mind having an honest debate with you in your down time about religion. Maybe invite Mother Giselle and Josephine; it might be good for both of them. And don’t back down when they get frustrated, push through. You should also really introduce Sahren to Cullen because once they get past the obvious differences I really think those two would get along. And let me handle Rasa, they’re a decent thief, but they could be better.”

            Ellana smiled at him. A real smile. Not one of the smiles she shot at refugees who thanked her that exuded benevolence. Not a small one while speaking to Cassandra that worked hard to present her as non-threatening. No, this smile was a little crooked and made her eyes crinkle just slightly. She finished her second cup of tea and said, “It makes sense that Rasa isn’t a decent thief, it’s not what they trained to be.”

            “And what exactly did they train to be?”

            “A master assassin, they were visiting me from Antiva when I left.”

            “Wait what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time. I figured Varric would be the one who would actually make sure our daring hero was holding up okay.


	6. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas has some weird dreams and a conversation.

          Solas dreamt of home. Of great palaces floating in the sky. He dreamt of grand and decadent parties that lasted for years. The sort of dances that would make a chantry mother faint. The food that would make a magister scream in envy. Solas lost himself in his own memory in this dream. It was a celebration Mythal had thrown, ostensibly to celebrate the work of an artist she admired. Solas wove through the crowd of moving bodies covered scantily in silks that seemed to have minds of their own. The music created by instruments no human had ever heard flowed through the room and tasted exciting. The music and the dancing had reached a crescendo. Solas closed his eyes and smelled the perfumes and delicacies. He could almost fool himself into thinking it was all real, and that everything that would happen after this had all been a bad dream. A nightmare. He opened his eyes however, and he could see the haze that hung over everything. The slightly blurred faces, the fabrics that couldn’t quite remember what design they were supposed to have.

            It was all a dream.

            Still, he could dream a little while longer. He could allow himself that.

            He reached the edge of crowd and wanted to weep. As blurry as everything else was, she was clear as day. Mythal stood on the balcony overlooking everything with a maternal smile on her face. He knew that she was always happy to make her children happy. She had dark hair that hung simply down to her hips and her deeply tanned face had only the slightest alteration from paints. Her red gown was simple too. The only thing she wore that suggested her status was a multitude of golden rings on her fingers and in her ears. The largest ring was her wedding band, which was made of intricately woven gold and was weighed down by more diamonds than most people could count quickly. Her husband was not in attendance tonight. They had fought recently. That happens when you’ve been together since the beginning of the world. She was the least extravagantly dressed person in attendance. But it didn’t matter. There wasn’t a person for miles around that couldn’t feel the power radiating from her.

            Solas caught her eye and her smile widened as she motioned for him to join her. As Solas walked up the steps to her small sanctuary he heard her voice as if she were standing next to him, whispering in his ear, “I need your help, I cannot do this alone.”

            Solas pulled aside the curtain at the top of steps and looked into Ellana Lavellan’s eyes.

            Solas shot awake as if someone had stabbed him. It felt like he had been wounded. He wanted to scream. He was sweating so much he wanted to throw himself into the snow outside his hut. It had been a long time since he had dreamt without being in control. He had decided he didn’t care for it. He would have to consult with Wisdom when he slept next. It would have to be tomorrow since he certainly wasn’t going back to sleep tonight. He laid back down and tried to slow his breathing. It was still dark outside, but Solas could hear the rumblings of people starting work. The sun would be rising soon. Solas rose with it.

            As Solas left his hut a few people nodded to him, but he knew no one in the camp really knew what to make of him. A free elvhen mage that didn’t seem to be frightened of humans or their Templars. Solas briefly considered acting more scared at the beginning, but ultimately couldn’t suffer the humiliation. He had spent enough of his life bowing to people who didn’t deserve to be bowed to. He walked over to a fire where some people were preparing breakfast and stopped dead in his tracks. Ellana Lavellan sat in the middle of a group huddled around the fire as she added a sprinkle of herbs to a soup she was making. Someone asked her a question and she laughed lightly before answering. Her laugh wasn’t condescending, and the woman who had asked the question smiled with her while she explained. She hadn’t tied her hair back yet, and it floated around her head and down her back like a dark cloud. She wore Dalish armor, but it wasn’t showy. The most elaborate parts of her were her vallaslin. It had been a long time since Solas had seen vallaslin that extensive. Of all of his people’s ancient traditions, why did this one have to be the one they carried down?

            “Chuckles! Come grab some food!”

            Solas shook himself out of his thoughts and turned to Varric. He sat to the left of Ellana and motioned for the others to move down so that Solas could come sit next to him. Everyone had turned to look at him now, including Ellana. She was smiling her benevolent and kind smile, and it worried Solas greatly. She did remind him of his old friend when she smiled like that. It put him on edge because he knew that kind of smile could be as dangerous a weapon as any knife. It was the kind of smile that inspired friendship and devotion.

            Even worship.

            Yes, the smile unnerved Solas, but he couldn’t just walk away now. Everyone was staring. He took the offered spot and bowl of the soup Ellana had apparently made. It was good, with spices designed to wake up the eater. Still, after his dream and remembering food before, it was dirt. He listened to the people around him discuss what needed to be done today. He noticed that the majority of those seated were elves. There were a few humans, but they wore the old and worn clothes of common laborers. The great Herald of Andraste ate among the common folk, it would seem. Even cooked for them. She was playing a very clever long game. He looked over at the woman in question and saw her listening attentively, asking questions here and there. The meal passed amicably and eventually everyone got up and went their separate ways. Everyone except Solas and Ellana.

            _Ellana_. What a ridiculous name. She said it with such confidence and elegance, as if it were not as meaningless as her religion.

            “Something you’d like to discuss with me?”

            Solas looked up from his empty bowl at the woman. She was looking at him with her large green eyes and unnerving smile.

            “Why would you think that?” Solas asked, setting his bowl into a pile of dishes to be cleaned.

            “You’ve been watching me since you walked up, but you haven’t said anything. I figured there was something you wanted to discuss with me in private.”

            She stood gracefully and extended her hand towards the gate of Haven and asked, “Shall we?”

           Solas did not bother to contradict her, instead he stood and followed her out of Haven and past the soldiers training just outside the gates. They walked in silence until they reached a short pier on the opposite side of the large pond in front of Haven. Ellana sat on the end of the pier with her feet swinging below. Solas elected to stand next to her, his hands folded behind his back. She leaned back on her hands so she could look up at him better, not commenting on his refusal to sit next to her.

            “You said you came from a Dalish temple.” Solas stated.

            “I did.”

            “I was not aware the Dalish had temples.”

            “I’m not surprised.”

            Solas tried not to let his hackles rise.

            “I should like to see one. Where would I find one?”

            “You can’t.”

            Solas did bristle some this time, “Excuse me?”

            Ellana sighed and looked forward, “They can only be found by believers. You have made it abundantly clear you don’t believe in my gods, so you can’t find it.”

            This made Solas pause, “That sounds like a strong enchantment.”

            Ellana nodded, “It is, it was a safety precaution put in place by our gods before The Fall.”

            “How do you know that they are the ones who cast the enchantment?”

            “That’s what all the stories say. Also logic. The enchantment has been in place since The Fall so it makes sense that the gods whose temples the protection is placed upon are the ones who put the spell in place.”

            “How do you know the enchantment has been in place that long?”

            “Written records that survive.”

            Solas felt his forehead crease and his eyes darted down to look at Ellana. He did not think any records survived from his people.

            “Did your people find them with temple?”

            Ellana laughed, “No, my people recorded it.”

            Solas sat slowly and carefully next to the woman. Finally he asked, “What?”

            “My people have inhabited the temples since before The Fall. It _has_ been thousands of years since then so obviously not all the records survive. That, in addition to the hardship we have dealt with, years of loss, flood, and fires. Much has been lost. Still, we preserve and learn from what we can. My temple doesn’t actually have many records on hand. Most writings and artifacts are taken to the temple of Falon’Din, the history keepers. They evaluate everything and present findings to the other temples every few years.”

            Solas’s head was reeling. How much _exactly_ did she know? How could he ask without giving too much away?

            Could she know everything and be messing with him?

            “Wait,” Solas’s train of thought suddenly skidded to a stop , “I’ve met Dalish tribes. They never told me about any of this. I seemed to know more from my dreaming than they did. Do you not tell them any of this?”

            “So, you assume because you walked into a Dalish camp and demanded information, they would tell you everything they know about their sacred history and religion?”

            Ellana looked at him as if she were talking to a child. Solas scoffed, “Why do you assume I was demanding?”

            The woman rolled her eyes, “Because I’ve had a conversation with you before, Solas.”

            “Still, with all of this apparent knowledge, why haven’t you used it to create more permanent settlements and civilization?”

            “We did once,” Ellana said quietly, “Just ask the Empress in Halamshiral.”

            Both were quiet for a moment. Ellana broke the silence and said, “The humans outnumber us, easily. They have more resources, more land, and more bodies to throw around. If we ever try to reassert ourselves again publicly, it would have to be a very delicate process. The humans are unnerved by people in power who aren’t exactly like them.”

            Solas was silent, she spoke truth and it frustrated him. Ellana wasn’t done yet though and turned to him, “Why do you even care?”

            Solas started a bit at that, “What do you mean?”

            “I mean why do you care. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve only ever spoken about the Dalish with disdain. You even lift your nose up at the elvhen who live in alienages. You don’t seem to like your own people very much so I will repeat myself before we continue any further. Why do you care?”

            Solas turned to stare at Ellana and wanted immediately to defend himself, but she had shared much with him and he would do her the courtesy of considering her question.

            “I… have not lived much among other elves,” Not recently anyway, “and the few I have interacted with have not treated me with an abundant amount of kindness.”

            Ellana nodded, “I can see how that would color your perception, but have you considered why they would treat you in such a way?”

            “Like everyone else, they are afraid of what they do not know.”

            Ellana nodded again and turned back towards the pond, “That could be part of it. Have you also considered it was because they have had to be afraid? Have had to treat all outsiders with suspicion? The world is a dangerous place for elves. Surely even living separately you must still know this.”

            “I do. Still, it is frustrating.”

            “I can see how it would be. If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry you were not treated kindly, you didn’t deserve that.”

            Solas was quiet for a moment while he regarded the woman next to him, “Thank you.”

            Ellana looked back over to Solas, “When all this is over, would you like to see a temple?”

            Solas thought for a moment. If what she said was true, and it really was a temple of Mythal, it was very likely he had been there before. He didn’t know if he could go. Knowing that she wasn’t there. That she never would be again. He had purposefully kept himself away from elvhen ruins since he had awoken. He didn’t want to see his home like that. Ruins.

            “I think you might actually like it there,” Ellana said, still looking forward, “plenty of people to debate with. The priests of Mythal are rather known for that talent.”

            Solas chuckled, that much at least had stayed the same, “Maybe I will.”

            Ellana smiled at him again, and Solas found it just a little less unnerving.

            “So, were you raised in the temple or in a clan?”

            The light atmosphere shifted suddenly and Ellana looked forward again, “Neither.”

            Ellana tugged on a pendant he had noticed her wearing before. It was a carving of a dragon’s head, an old piece of leather was tied around one horn, and the bottom of the carving was smoother than rest after years of rubbing at it.

            “My mother was raised in a clan, I think.”

            Solas felt a pit in his stomach, but forced himself to continue, “You think?”

            She nodded, “Yes, this was hers, and I remember that she had vallaslin like mine.”

            “What happened to her?”

            “I don’t know. I was taken from her when I was five.”

            Solas didn’t say anything. It was the most emotional he had ever seen Ellana. She didn’t cry, but it looked like she had plenty of times before. After a moment she gathered herself and smiled. It was the smile that had unnerved him before, but now he saw it for what it was. She got up, bid him goodbye, and walked away.

            Solas spent the rest of the day helping the healers to stock pile salves, help those injured by rifts, and continuing his study of the Breach. He found it difficult to focus however. The People had fallen so far. The suffering they have endured. It was unimaginable.

            And it was all his fault.

            After trying to read the same sentence in his book for the fifth time he decided he wasn’t going to get any work done in his current state. He needed someone that could help him focus on what was really important. Not on just one example of suffering. He needed to refocus on the big picture. He laid in bed and quickly fell asleep. As soon as he entered the Fade he found himself in an old library that he had visited many times growing up. Tall trees wove together to make shelves covered in heavy tomes. The roof was nothing but beautiful green leaves. He looked around for his friend, Wisdom, but could not find them anywhere. Odd. They were normally here when he came looking.

            “Hello?” Solas called. His voice echoed strangely here.

            “ _I need to focus on what is really important_.”

           His own words surrounded him as the ground beneath him gave way and he fell. He reached out desperately to try to reshape the dream, but to no avail. He landed on a cobblestone alley on a beautiful sunny day. There were plants hung along the walls drying, and several barrels were stacked along the walls as well. Suddenly a door behind him burst open and screams filled the air. A human man emerged holding a screaming elven girl. An older elvhen woman came barreling out after before being grabbed back by other hands. He couldn’t make out the woman’s face, or the faces of those holding her. But he could smell the spices. They filled his nose and made him want to be sick. The feeling was made worse when he looked at the face of the child and saw her bright green eyes rimmed red with tears.

            He shouldn’t be here.

            He tried again desperately to leave this dream, but still couldn’t break out.  Solas followed the child’s line of sight to see the woman being beaten in the alley. The girl screamed louder. Finally the guard yelled, “If you don’t shut up we’ll break her arm!”

            The girls eyes widned and she bit down on her lip. She looked back at her mother on the ground, now trying to stand back up. The woman looked up and stared at the child as if she were the only thing in the alley, the whole world even. The guards started walking again and Solas followed little Ellana out of the alleyway and into another memory.

            She was in a rickety old cabin that shook all around them. A storm raged outside and the only light was provided by the flashes of lighting in the sky. Ellana sat curled up on a small cot with a threadbare blanket covering her. There were seven other cots like hers in the tiny space, with other small children in them. All of them were soaked from the myriad leaks in the roof. All of them were shivering. In these conditions, Solas wouldn’t be surprised if half of them died in the night. Ellana was crying, but the child in the bed next to her was sobbing. He was screaming for his mother. For a cherished blanket. For a lost toy. There was a fireplace in the back of the cabin, but the wood was soaked and no matches were provided.

            Solas knelt next to little Ellana’s bed and watched as her eyes focused in on the child next to her. She gritted her teeth and sat up in bed with a look a fierce determination on her face. She looked at all the other little bodies in the room shaking from the cold and fear. Solas knew suddenly that all of them had come with her, had been taken from their mothers with the same purchase that took Ellana from hers. She got into the bed next to her and took the little boys hand. The boy squeezed her hand back and his sobs calmed some. She turned to check on the child on the other side of her bed, who had been quiet. She crawled out of her bed and onto the other little girls. She picked up the girls hand and felt that it was cold. She felt that the hand wasn’t shaking either. The girl wasn’t breathing. Her wide blue eyes were still wet from tears, but they weren’t crying anymore.

            Ellana flung herself back and Solas wanted to scream in rage. The other children had gotten up to see what had spooked her so bad. Ellana looked at all of their faces, and Solas could see what she saw. Despair. Complete and total heartbreak. No child in that room was older than seven. All of them were shaking and Solas was terrified his earlier prediction would prove to be true. Ellana’s little face set again as she got out of bed. She went over to the fireplace and knelt down.

            The oldest looking child, a girl, asked, “What are you doing?”

            Ellana stared at the dark fireplace, “My mamae taught me a trick. In the winter when it would get cold and we couldn’t get enough firewood, she knew how to get warm.”

            “What’s the tri-”

            “Shush, I’m focusing.”

            The older girl looked annoyed but didn’t say anything else. Ellana held her hands over the logs, as if they were lit and she was warming them. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes were closed. He could hear her mumbling to herself, “I am warm,” over and over again.

            For a few long minutes nothing happened. The other children all looked at each other confused. The older girl rolled her eyes and laid back down. Solas pitied her, she was too young to be so jaded. Solas kneeled down next to Ellana and he could see the little tears coming out of her squeezed-shut eyes and could hear her sniffles.

            “I am warm.” She was crying to herself.

            Solas knew he couldn’t help, this had happened long ago for her, but still he whispered, “You can do this.”

            Her face twisted even further and her head tilted, like she was giving it one more go. Suddenly steam began to rise from the logs. More and more rose and the other children rose with it and gathered around her. Ellana still hadn’t opened her eyes. The other children lifted their little hands up to and prayed with her, “I am warm. I am warm.”

            Suddenly a small flicker of light appeared deep under the logs, all the children gasped. Their prayer grew louder and louder as the flame grew. Ellana didn’t open her eyes, but her voice rose with theirs. Solas could feel it coming off of the children in waves.

            Faith.

            The fire grew bigger and bigger until it engulfed the logs. Only then did Ellana open her eyes. The children cheered. Ellana didn’t. She stood and walked over to the little girl still in her bed with her unseeing blue eyes. The other children sobered and joined her. They gathered around the bed solemn as priests at the passing of great king. Very gently Ellana pulled back the blanket and placed her hands under the girls slight shoulders. The other children followed suit and lifted her carefully, so as to not disturb her. They placed her in front of the fire and covered her back up with her blanket, pulling it so it covered her face. The other children sat around her with Ellana in the middle. They all grabbed the child next to them and held each other. Solas knelt behind them and watched them fall asleep like that.

            The room darkened and Solas was pulled into another memory. Solas was still reeling from the previous scene that he didn’t even try to stop it. He was kneeling on a riverbank with trees all around him. For a moment he thought he was back in his library, but then another elf joined him. He recognized Ellana again, but she was older this time, maybe fifteen. She did not yet have vallaslin on her face, but she was gripping the same pendent she had been wearing earlier. The same determination was set on her face as she stared at the water.

            “Hurry it up!”

            Solas swung around with Ellana and saw a human guard standing a few paces behind them. There was enough detail in the armor now to confirm Solas’s suspicions. They were from Tevinter. Ellana wore no shackles, but she didn’t need to. She turned back and dipped her hands in the water and took a drink. Others joined her at the riverbank. Solas counted at least twenty before Ellana was standing and Solas was moving with her. It was dusk and it was obvious that this was a traveling party that had made camp for the night. A rudimentary fence had been set up with little bells on the wires hanging between wood posts. Bedrolls were set up inside, and Ellana walked through the only opening in the fence and sat on one. The guard at the entrance spoke to the elves present, “One hour until the end of dinner.”

            All of the elves nodded and the guard walked a short distance away to talk to another human. It was still light enough out, though it would be dark soon, and he didn’t really have to worry about them escaping. Solas could see the road from the clearing where they had made camp and recognized the Imperial Highway. Solas looked back at Ellana and could see that she wasn’t looking at the road. Her eyes were deadlocked on the river. Another elf sat on the bedroll next to hers so that both of their backs were facing the guards. Solas recognized her face as the older girl from the shed.

            “Don’t even think about it.”

            Ellana smiled but didn’t take her eyes off the water, “Too late.”

            “Are you crazy,” The girl was whispering but Solas could tell she wanted to scream, “You can’t swim.”

            “I can float. I can grab a piece of wood and kick. That’ll help me float faster.”

            “You’ll drown.” The girl hissed, looking increasingly desperate.

            Ellana turned to look at her and asked, “Are you going to tell?”

            The girl scoffed, “Of course not.” She hesitated for a moment, “I just don’t want you to die.”

            Ellana held her pendant firmly and looked back at the water, “I’m not going to die.”

            She seemed to be saying it more to herself than her friend. The memory blurred and her friend drifted away. There was movement around Ellana, but she didn’t take her eyes off of the water. The sun sank in the sky, and the guards were finally drunk. Solas knew that she would be all right, but the air was thick with tension and it was hard for him to breathe. Finally, Ellana rose. She looked behind her and saw that the guards weren’t paying attention. She looked down at the small pack next to her and thought for a moment. She grabbed only a small shiv out of it and stuck it in a small pouch tied at her waist. She took off her necklace and reached into her shirt to tie the cord tightly around her breast band. She took off her boots and started to walk casually towards the water. Solas could see other elves heads rise and look at her. Their idle chatter stopped and she began running. Solas heard a guard shouting behind her but she was moving too fast. Solas ran along side her and watched her face scrunch up the same way it did when she had made fire just as she jumped into the fast moving river. Solas was dragged under with her and couldn’t tell which way was up. All he felt was the water, and the fear. It dragged him down and he kicked his legs desperately and brought himself above the surface. He saw Ellana do the same and desperately try to keep herself above the surface. Solas was pulled back under and didn’t see anything else.

            When he could open his eyes again, he was staring up at the night sky. He turned and saw Ellana a few paces away puking up water and bile, her feet still in the water. Once she could breathe again she was laughing. Solas could feel her jubilation. Her freedom. It was gone the moment they both heard shouting. They spun to look at the opposite bank and could make out torch light in the distance through the trees. In a moment Ellana was on her feet and she was running. Solas could only follow. They ran together through the forest and Solas could feel the fear rolling off Ellana in waves, but she didn’t slow down. The trees almost seemed to part for them. Showing them the way. Solas turned his head and saw that they were in fact closing behind them.

            Time seemed to melt away as they ran. They ran through heat, through rain, through forests, through snow. They just ran. Solas could see Ellana getting thinner, could see her wearing down. Finally they reached a bog. From the state of Ellana’s clothes she must have been on the run for weeks, if not months. The pendant was clutched in her right hand with the cord wrapped around her wrist. Her left hand clutched the small shiv desperately. Ellana had abandoned her shoes when she left, and the bog was treacherous. Ellana was soaked and exhausted but forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t last though, Solas could see that clearly. She was starving, hadn’t rested, and from the sweat on her forehead was likely very ill. She was trying to climb a small hill when her feet finaly gave out and she collapsed in the mud.

            With what was left of her strength she rolled onto her back and wailed. It was thunderous. Solas felt it in his soul. She had fought for so long to die on this hill in this bog. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she wailed. If she were caught now she didn’t have to worry, she wouldn’t survive the journey back to the Magister anyway. She turned her head to the side and looked at the pendant she clutched. Solas strained to hear her whisper, “I’m sorry. I don’t know any of the right words. My mother used to sing them, but I don’t know them anymore.”

            She pulled her arm with the pendent to her chest and clutched tight, whispering, “I don’t even know your name.”

            The scene began to fade when Solas heard a gentle feminine voice float down around them, “Her name is Mythal, and she has brought you to safety.”

            The last thing Solas saw was a glowing elvhen woman reaching down to Ellana.

            “ _I need to focus on what is really important_.”

            Solas heard his own voice again and was suddenly back in his library. Wisdom stood in front of him. Solas collapsed to his knees in front of his friend, breathing heavily. Wisdom bent down in front him and said, “When you only focus on the big picture, it can be hard to remember why your goals are so important.”

            Wisdom reached down a hand and pulled Solas to his feet, “You do not trust her because you do not trust faith. It has betrayed you, and many others. You must also understand that your experience is not universal. Faith can be a good thing; it can bring strength where none exists. Make the impossible, possible. She is strong because she has had to be. Clever because she has had to be. Manipulative because she has had to be. You of all people should understand.”

            Solas nodded. Wisdom opened their mouth and a strange mix of Ellana’s and Mythal’s voice came out, “I need your help. I cannot do this alone.”

            Solas shot awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited Solas chapter. I really struggled with what I wanted to do with this one and whether or not to reveal this much of Ellana's backstory this early, but I figured Solas really needed to understand where Ellana was coming from for their relationship to progress. Let me know if you liked it!


	7. Vivienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne throws a party.

            Madam de Fer listened to the sound of rain pour down on balcony outside her study. She held up her latest concoction and took a dainty sniff before reeling back. It would seem that any old Wyvern heart wouldn’t do. She bowed her head and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. She knew it wouldn’t be enough, but she had still been foolish enough to hope. She set down the beaker and returned to her elegant mahogany desk where a heavy tome awaited her. A crack of thunder outside almost caused her to entirely miss the gentle knocking at her door. Almost.

            “Come in!”

            The gilded door creaked open and Bastien walked in slowly, his can tapping against the white marble floor. Vivienne pushed herself quickly out of her seat and rushed over to her lover.

            “My dearest you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

            Bastien chuckled while Vivienne led him over to her blue satin chaise lounge.

            “My love,” Bastien gazed at Vivienne adoringly while he sat, “you worry too much.”

            Vivienne settled herself next to him while keeping her hand in his, “Now dearest, you know I never worry.”

            “Of course, I meant to say ‘mild concern’.”

            Both laughed freely. The laughter stopped abruptly when Bastien began to cough violently. He pulled out a monogramed handkerchief to cough into while Vivienne rubbed circles on his back. When the coughing finally subsided Vivienne turned his face to hers to inspect his eyes for any murkiness. Bastien put his hand over hers on his face and said, “My love, you need to start getting ready for the party. Guests will begin arriving in a little over an hour. I suspect you’ll be wanting to enhance your already immense beauty.”

            “You’re right, as usual, I suppose time ran away with me.”

            “It will be interesting. The Herald of Andraste will be in attendance, I hear.”

            “Yes, she did accept the invitation. She’s a Dalish mage.”

            “In a room full of nobility? Oh it’s going to be a delightful party my love. You’ll have to tell me all about it later.”

            “I will come see you as soon as the party is over.”

            “Do you want to go with her?”

            Vivienne had been expecting the question, and she wasn’t ashamed of the answer. Still, looking at her dear Bastien’s once strong hand holding hers, the answer still stung a little as she said it, “Yes.”

            Bastien smiled and nodded at her, “Good. You’ll do great things with the Inquisition. Show them what’s what. From what you’ve told me of this Herald she will need your help.”

            “That is more than likely. And I am very happy to be helpful to her in this.”

            Bastien raised an eyebrow while lowering their entwined hands; “I suspect you’re also overjoyed at the idea of remaining good friends with her after you clean up this mess.”

            Vivienne gasped playfully and pretended to be shocked, “Why dear, now that you mention it, that would be delightful! One can never have too many good friends.”

            Bastien chuckled and rose slowly, Vivienne smiled with him but her eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched him. Bastien stood at his full height and said, “Go dear, I’ll call for a servant to help me. It is what I pay them for.”

            Vivienne’s eyes scanned her beloved one more time before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and leaving the room. Now was a time of action, and she had dawdled for too long already.

\--------------

            Vivienne scanned the room from a high balcony overlooking the main entryway. The crowd was calmer than what was in fashion, but it was to be expected from and older and more distinguished crowd. Many of the young men who would have livened the hall had left this morning for the Grand Tourney.  Fortunately for Vivienne, not all of them had left. The Marquis Alphonse had been guzzling Bastien’s good wine since he had arrived.  Vivienne sneered as she observed him drunkenly declaring his immense _valor_ to some very disinterested young ladies. She would have to intervene soon. He had a purpose here tonight, but she didn’t want him to make too much of a ruckus before then.

            The crack of the majordomo’s staff against the marble floor drew Vivienne’s attention to the entryway.

            The hall quieted as the short man announced, “Presenting Ellana Lavellan of the Inquisition!”

            Those who hadn’t already fallen silent did so now. Vivienne moved closer to the railing to get a better look. The large oak doors opened and a short elven woman walked in. Vivienne was… pleasantly surprised. The woman at least knew how to make an entrance. She wore a low cut dark red gown that dipped scandalously low in the back. The dress was plain, but it was enhanced by the woman’s tattoos. Her arms were uncovered so Vivienne could see that the woman was covered in the dark ink. The ink alone didn’t stand out much against the woman’s dark skin, but the gold paint that followed all of the intricate lines did.  Large earrings with chains connecting them dripped from the woman’s large ears. Her black curls were pulled back loosely with gold chains that connected to matching gold beads in the woman’s hair. The candlelight bounced off of her and she shined.

            Her gold rimmed eyes flicked around the room while she descended the stairs, taking it all in calmly. The other guests had the good grace to breathe just for a moment before immediately turning to whisper with each other. The Herald glided across the marble with her dress trailing behind her. Vivienne could see that she didn’t wear any shoes but instead wrapped the arch of her foot with leather dyed the same color as her dress and the tattoo’s and gold paint extended down to her toes. Two minor nobles Vivienne only knew in passing were the first guests brave enough to approach her. Her smile was polite while she talked with them, and apparently said something witty enough to make them laugh.

            “The Inquisition! What a load of pig shit!”

            Vivienne smiled at the drunk Marquis while he ranted at he Herald. Vivienne detested rudeness, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew when to make an entrance too. She descended the staircase behind the Marquis and snapped her fingers, allowing herself to feel the ice flowing through them. Just as the Marquis raised his hand to draw his sword he slowed to a stop and thin layer of frost covered him from head to toe. His eyes were still able to widen and flit from side to side, trying to find the source of his immobility. Vivienne could see his nostrils flaring as his breathing quickened.

            “My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in _my_ house. To _my_ guests.” Vivienne emerged from behind the silly little man, “You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

            She could hear the Marquis simpering behind her, “Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon.”

            Vivienne took a quick look over the Herald before turning to the lesser noble, “As well you should. _Whatever_ am I going to do with you my dear?”

            Vivienne relished for a brief moment at the terror in the mans eyes. It served him right, disrespecting her honored guest was as bad as disrespecting her. Vivienne had worked very hard to make sure everyone knew the consequences of that. While Vivienne had set the trap, it was his own fault for being foolish enough to walk right into it. Her mind reeled with all the different ways she could make the man suffer the consequences of his actions, but she reigned herself in and remembered the show she was putting on. She turned back to the Herald and said conversationally, “My lady, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

            Every eye in the room now rested solely on the Herald. She could demand anything for this assault on her honor. Vivienne knew that the rest of the party was eager to see what kind of religious heroine this Herald would turn out to be. To her credit, the woman didn’t flinch. She looked at Vivienne for moment, she could feel the elven woman studying Vivienne the way she had been studying the Herald earlier. Then her eyes slid to the man standing behind Vivienne. She regarded him coolly and the room held its breath. Finally she spoke in the same smooth way Vivienne had moments ago, “The petty little insults of a petty little man are of no concern to myself or the Inquisition. It’s your party Enchanter, do what you like with him.”

            Vivienne grinned, magnanimous yet vague it was. The Enchanter turned to face the frozen man, “Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord.”

            Vivienne snapped her fingers and released him from his physical bonds, but knew that she still held his throat in her hands as she continued, “And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning… and you’re still here.”

            While Vivienne knew she head the ear of every single person at the party already, she still raised her voice slightly for emphasis for the next part, “Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure? Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt.”

            Vivienne turned back to the Herald, not even bothering to watch the pitiful man shamefully slip out of the room.  She smiled at the elven woman as if she hadn’t just destroyed that mans life and said, “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you.”

            Vivienne waved her arm up the stairs, and the Herald followed her up. The grand show was over, and now Vivienne much preferred an audience of one. She guided the Herald to a more secluded hallway with an alcove where they could speak privately. The Herald walked silently next to her and Vivienne took the opportunity to study her out of the corner of her eye. The woman walked gracefully as she eyed the large painting and tapestries on the walls with a faint interest. Her head never turned completely away from Vivienne however. She kept her guard up, even with a supposed ally. This was good. The Herald was smart. She’d hate to elevate a fool. Vivienne stopped when they reached a window with a view of the garden. She leaned against the wall and finally said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

            The Herald walked up to the window and looked down at the garden. She didn’t take her eyes off of it while she said, “Your garden is immaculately planned Lady Vivienne, I expect nothing grows in it without your express knowledge.”

            Vivienne grinned, “No, I like to know exactly what will appear and when.”

            What a delightful evening.

            The Herald turned then to face Vivienne and the Enchanter continued, “However, I did not invite you here this evening to discuss pleasantries. With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles.” Vivienne allowed her tone to become serious then, “Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

            The Herald masked it well, but Vivienne could see the skepticism on her face. Good. Vivienne’s desire to be at the center of this had only been barely covered in her tone. If the Herald hadn’t picked up on it she would have to be a naïve idiot. However there had been something even farther under the Herald’s mask that Vivienne couldn’t quite place while she had been speaking. The Herald regarded Vivienne before turning back to the window to look down at the garden again.

            “Order is only as good as the one guiding it. Your garden is beautiful because you have a clever eye for it. I can see that you pay every seedling in it attention. It is full of beautiful blossoms. Even if you personally don’t water, prune, and fertilize your garden daily, it’s plain that you at least pay someone very capable to do so. You care about it. Therefore, it grows well.  I wonder if someone who did not care as much for this garden would enable it to be so beautiful?”

            Vivienne had already known the Herald was an apostate, and standing so close to her now she could feel the magic radiating off of the elf. She knew this conversation would come up.  The easy smile Vivienne had been wearing at night slipped from her face slowly.

            She took a moment to think about her next words, “True, some bumbling fool could come along and wreak havoc on the plants, stomp around and destroy the blooms. However, is that any better than allowing it to grow wild? Lichen has decimated wild Crystal Grace throughout the Hinterlands, yet here they grow abundantly. My gardener and myself keep a wary eye out for any possible growth or disease that could spread to the others and we cull when we need to, which serves to preserve the rest of the blossoms. Certainly some plants die, but it is necessary. It would be crueler to allow their sickness spread to all of the flowers when I could have prevented it.”

            The Herald smiled, “If only all gardens were lucky enough to have you as their caretaker, Madam Vivienne. Your concerns for your garden are valid, lichen can be very dangerous, but there is a flaw in your argument.”

            “Is there?”

           “While it is true that lichen have decimated the Crystal Grace population in the Hinterlands, the flowers are slowly but surely coming back. The plant has developed new ways to fight off the fungus and is growing stronger than ever.” The Herald turned from the window to face Vivienne, “Nothing can grow without adversity. Guidance and assistance is important, but if something cannot learn to stand on it’s own, it will crumble.”

            “So you propose that we simply allow them to be subjected to every disease, drought, and frost there is and hope some make it out the other side?”

            “No, but I do think it is a balance. To swing too far in either direction is dangerous and damaging.”

            “On that at least we can agree.”

            Vivienne knew that this wasn’t the end of the conversation. It was simply a stalemate. However, the inquisitor’s argument was not without logic. Vivienne was not foolish enough to believe that just because she personally did not agree with someone’s reasoning, it did not make them unreasonable. She could develop this relationship further, and she could trust that this woman would not act so irrationally as to do irreparable harm to mages across Thedas. She seemed as concerned with their well being as Vivienne herself was, even if they did disagree on the best ways to serve them.

            “Madam Vivienne, why did you really invite me here tonight?”

            Vivienne could work with direct if that was the new approach the Herald wanted to take, “As I have said, I wanted to meet you. And I wanted to offer my services to the Inquisition.”

            The Herald nodded but pressed further to her real question, “And how would joining the Inquisition serve you?”

            Vivienne drew herself up to her full height and spoke with strength, “The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos. The chance to meet my enemy. To decide my fate. I won’t wait quietly for destruction.”

            The Herald stared at Vivienne while she spoke, measuring the Enchanter. Vivienne was used to scrutiny at this point, but something in the elven woman’s eyes still managed to unnerve her. Vivienne refused to let her mild discomfort show, but she would remember it.

            Finally the Herald spoke again, “You introduced yourself earlier, now allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ellana of Clan Lavellan, I am the Raj’ha’haren of Mythal. Many call me the Herald of Andraste. I intend to close the Breach, find those responsible, and hold them to account for their actions. You are welcome to join me while I do this.”

            Vivienne smiled, “Darling, I would be delighted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mini hiatus everyone, I will try to be better about updating more consistently. I hope you liked this one! Vivienne is one of my favorite characters in the games and I was excited to write from her perspective.


	8. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera arrives at Haven.

            Shite

            _Shite shite shite shite fucking shite balls._

            The _Herald_ of _Andraste_ was and elf.

            An… _elfy_ elf.

            Sera had seen the super special tattoos when she met the woman at that noble twits house, but she didn’t really understand it. _Yet_. On the way back to Haven Sera began to understand. The woman prayed at least twice a day, and that was just the times she prayed around the campfire. She spoke in her weird elfy language. She rode her big elfy deer. She was aggressively elfy. The Herald of Andraste shouldn’t be this elfy. Did the Big Lady make a mistake? Could Andraste make mistakes? All of this was more head scratching than Sera had bargained for. Luckily the Blessed Lady Herald hadn’t tried to convert Sera to her weird elfy religion. _Yet_.

            Unfortunately she had decided to take a different approach to Sera than she had with most everyone else. She _worried_ over Sera.  The first night they were camping and making dinner she had tried to offer to help her make arrows, put extra helpings of food on her plate, and gave Sera blankets from her own tent. At the last offer Sera had simply run into her ten and slammed the flaps shut with as much emphasis as you can slam pieces of fabric shut. Varric at least had the grace to ask Sera if she was warm enough. Sera had to hide out in her designated hut instead of her preferred perch in the tavern to get away from the woman who had insisted that she looked like, “she hadn’t gotten enough to eat for dinner.”

            Sera sat upside down in a chair practicing throwing knives at the wall when a knock at her door nearly caused her to knick her face and did send her tumbling out of her chair.

            “Shite!”

            “Sorry if I’m interrupting!” Came the muffled voice of the Herald from the other side of the door.

            Sera thought for a moment about just staying quiet and acting like she wasn’t here, but the woman had already heard her. _Shite_.

            “Yeah? What do you want?” Sera called, hoping her angry tone would be enough to scare the woman away.

            No such luck. The door opened and the short elf slipped into the room with a bowl of soup and some fabric draped over her shoulder. She smiled at Sera with such kindness Sera though she was going to be sick. She did look slightly concerned about Sera’s position on the floor however.

            “Are you alright?”

            Sera pulled herself off the floor and tucked her knife back in her boot, “Yeah, what do ya’ want?”

            The woman actually looked a little hurt by Sera’s harsh tone, but Sera chose to ignore it. Instead she turned to go collect the knives on the wall. The woman sounded a little unsure when she said, “I…I brought you some soup.”

            “Don’t need soup.”

            “It looked like you didn’t eat a lot earlier and I just thought-“

            “Don’t need you watching how much I eat.” Sera snapped.

            The Herald was silent for a moment before nodding and setting the bowl down on a table. She took the piece of fabric from her shoulder and saw that it was a warm looking coat. Sera shivered involuntarily. She hadn’t known how high in the mountains Haven would be when she packed her few belongings she bothered to take with her. She had been cold. Still, she stayed silent. The woman seemed to think carefully about her next words before speaking, “I can’t stand the cold. I know the first time I traveled to a place where it actually snowed I wasn’t prepared, and I was miserable.”

            “I don’t need your life lessons, _Herald_.”

            The woman’s face stayed calm but Sera could see her grip the coat a little tighter. She nodded and spoke, “I’ll just leave this here. In case you get cold.”

            The woman turned to walk out and just before she opened the door she turned back to Sera, “You know, it’s okay to call me Ellana. I don’t like the title.”

            After the woman had left Sera gingerly picked up the coat. The leather was worn but still warm. There was rough embroidery around the sleeves and collar. The stitches were slightly uneven in some places. It fit Sera pretty well. It was really warm. Sera snuggled into it further as she slurped down the soup. There had been a lot of priests and Templars around when she had gone to dinner and Sera hadn’t like the way they had looked at her. Like she wasn’t any good. She tried to stick her tongue out at them and call them rude names, but the looks just got worse. Sera had left early.

            Sera believed in the Maker and all that, but the people here _believed_. It made Sera feel like she didn’t believe enough. Like she wasn’t enough. The bartender was nice enough, but still she was there because she believed she was _meant_ to be the Inquisition’s bartender. Everyone here was absolutely bonkers, with the exception of Varric. He talked too fancy though. Made Sera uncomfortable. The only other one who didn’t believe as hard as everyone else was the _other_ other elf, Solas, but he made the Herald look kind of normal. Sera got a headache just thinking about him.

_Ugh_. This place.

\-------------

            The next morning Sera got ready to head out with a scouting party. Some poor sod had run into rogue Templars north of Redcliffe along Lake Calenhad that needed taking care of, and Sera really wanted to get out of Haven for a while. She noticed the Herald by the gate, but thankfully the woman didn’t say anything about the coat Sera was bundled up in. She was talking to another elf around Sera’s age. This one didn’t have tattoo’s like the Herald, but they didn’t move like a city elf.  The elf had deeply tanned skin and sparkling amber eyes. The sides of their head was shaved with one long braid extending past their shoulders with little trinkets woven in randomly throughout. The elf laughed at something the Herald said which only seemed to irritate the woman. The Herald’s brow crinkled before sighing and hugging the younger elf tightly. Sera realized this was the most relaxed she had seen the woman. The Herald smiled kindly at Sera as she walked back towards the Chantry.

            The lead scout, Charter, signaled for everyone to mount up and the group of ten or so scouts were on their way. Most of the rest of the scouts seemed to know each other. Sera rode in the back.

            Dammit she was trying. She didn’t like horses. She didn’t like trees. She didn’t like grand callings. But she was trying. She had told the Herald it was all about making money, but that hadn’t been completely true. She’d never admit it, but Sera knew what she really wanted was to be a part of something bigger than herself.

            It was turning out to be harder than she thought.

            Sera sighed and decided that his trip would be a good break. Clear and easy bad guys she could stick with a bunch of arrows. Easy. Sera knew how to do that. No disciple hood required. Sera jumped a little when she realized another horse had ridden up next to her. Except it wasn’t a horse. It was a massive fucking deer. The elf that had been with the Herald rode it.

            They stuck out their hand to Sera and said, “Hey, I’m Rasa.”

            “Sera.”

            The elf didn’t seem phased when Sera didn’t take their hand and instead grinned at her.

            “So I hear you’re new.”

            “I am.”

            Sera couldn’t tear her eyes away from the massive fucking deer and Rasa noticed, “This is Sylvas, she’s perfectly nice.”

            “It’s too big.” Sera said, slightly horrified and trying hard not to show it.

            Rasa grinned toothily, “You wanna know something fun?”

            Sera eyed her warily, “What?”

            Rasa leaned in close and Sera could make out the freckles all across their face, “She’s gonna get bigger.”

            Sera reeled back, disgusted, “Fuck that.”

            Sera looked back at the head of the massive animal and its deadly looking horns. It would get bigger. That just wasn’t right. Rasa was cackling on it’s back. For the first time Sera noticed that the elf hadn’t bothered with a saddle, or reigns for that matter. The thought of it made Sera grip her own reigns a little tighter, much to the displeasure of the horse under. The horse reared its head back and snorted loudly.      

            “Stop that! Stupid horse!” Sera snapped.

            Rasa held out their hand toward the horse and whispered, “Atishan.”

            The horse calmed instantly and Sera groaned, “I should have known.”

            Rasa looked confused, “Should have known what?”

            “You’re elfy too!”

            Rasa laughed again and Sera was really starting to hate the sound, “Oh right! Ellana did warn me you didn’t like elvhen.”

            “Elfy-to-good-for-you-little-people-shite.” Sera spat.

            “Yeah, occasionally.” Rasa agreed.

            Sera hadn’t expected that. She turned and looked at the other elf more closely.

            “I don’t get it. You ride the big weird deer.  You speak the stupid language. But you don’t have the super special tattoos! You Dalish or not?”

            Rasa thought for a moment before answering, “Both? My parents were Dalish, my brother and I were raised at the temple of Mythal, but I spend most of my time in human cities.”

            “So what, you didn’t take their super secret vows or whatever.”

            Rasa turned and looked Sera up in and down in a way that made Sera a little uncomfortable. Their eyes were a little too sharp, like they saw too much. Finally they answered, “I did.”

            “So where are your super special tattoos?”

            “My order doesn’t get them.”

            “You follow an ‘order’?”

            “I do. Dirthamen’s. The keeper of secrets.”

            “He a spy or something?”

            “Or something. The tattoos aren’t exactly subtle, so those of us that dedicate ourselves in a bit more serious way don’t get them. We also don’t live with clans. We live in cities and among humans.”

            “Why?”

            Rasa looked straight in front of them, and for the first time Sera noticed they were uncomfortable. Their lips were pursed and they opened their mouth several times before finally settling on, “We keep our eyes on things. I’m sorry; I don’t normally talk about all this. Ellana is insisting openness is important with our new allies.”

            They turned back to Sera and said plainly, “This is weird for me.”

            Sera nodded, “Well that makes two of us.”

            Rasa sighed and said, “Thank the Creators. Has anyone asked you to clean up messes yet?”

            Sera barked our a laugh and Rasa joined her, Sera didn’t hate it as much this time, “Yeah, but then I just made the mess worse.”

            “Good! It’s like, who looks at me,” Rasa gestured and their tightfitting dark leather armor covered in pockets for knives, “and thinks, ‘yeah, they are definitely a maid’? Seriously? Ugh. Ellana also said I’m not allowed to scare anyone. I have to be on my ‘best behavior’.”

            “Why do you listen to her?” Sera asked, leaning forward on the pommel of her saddle and forgetting how uncomfortable she was.

            “You know how I mentioned my brother and I were raised at the temple of Mythal after our parents died?”

            “Yeah, that some kind of elfy orphanage?”

            “Pretty much. I mean the priests of Mythal do _a lot_. But also they take care of orphaned Dalish kids if they don’t have anyone else that can take care of them.”

            “Were they shits? They sound like shits. Did the touched lady Herald rescue you two from them?”

            Rasa laughed and shook their head, “No, she had just arrived and was in the process of becoming a priest. We were her first charges.”

            Rasa smiled to themselves like they were remembering something nice. Sera on the other head let the gears click into place in her head. The Herald was a priest. A priest who took care of kids. It explained a lot about her. Sera looked down at the badly embroidered cuffs of her jacket and rubbed at them softly.

            “She is a wonderful woman, but she’s shit at sewing.”

            Rasa’s voice brought Sera out of her thoughts and she swung her head back up to look at Rasa, “She made this? The lady Herald made this?”

            Rasa nodded, “Yeah, the first time she came to visit me after I’d finished my training. I was at my first posting in Halamshiral and she was so proud of me that she insisted on visiting.  I tried to tell her it was winter there and she wouldn’t be used to it, but she wouldn’t listen. She showed up in that coat thinking it would be enough for an Orleasian winter. It snowed ten inches the first week she was there. Also the shacks elvhen live in there aren’t exactly well insulated.”

            Sera knew that was true, but one thing was bothering her, “But, this coat is _really_ warm?”

            “Yeah, she tried to abstain from using magic while she was in Orlais, but by then of the second day she couldn’t stand it anymore. She cast an enchantment on the coat so that it would always keep her warm.  I wound up buying her another coat before she left, but she was still very proud of the coat she had made. Even if it looked like shit.”

            Sera wasn’t super comfortable knowing the coat was all… magicy. But she didn’t have a better alternative at the moment. Begrudgingly, she kept the coat on.

            “If she was so proud of it, why give it to me?”

            “Well, you’re about the same age as my brother and I, and it’s her job to take care of young elvhen. She probably looks at you and see’s my brother or me. She mothers, it’s kind of her thing.”

            Sera sneered a little at the horse’s ears. She didn’t like mums.

            “Piss.”

            Rasa laughed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translation:
> 
> Sylvas- Freedom’s breath  
> Atishan- peace
> 
> We get to hang out with Rasa more. The twins will be major characters in this, so I really hope you like them.


	9. Iron Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull heads to Redcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a reference to self-harm and mutilation. It’s about halfway through the paragraph where Iron Bull makes observations about Ellana having been a slave. It's contained to that paragraph so you can skip it without missing anything.

           The Iron Bull pitied the poor horse under him as he rode through the Hinterlands. They’d found a work horse big enough to haul his big ass around, but the beast obviously wasn’t used to being ridden. Iron Bull sympathized; long rides were the worst part of any job. It was boring. It did however give him an opportunity to study his new companions. He had volunteered to bring up the rear, Sera rode in front of him, and then the mage, Vivienne, rode next to the boss up front. Those two were so far the most entertaining part of this trip.  They’d spent the whole morning giving each other extremely specific gardening advice, and a child would have been able to figure out that they weren’t talking about gardening. They were so damn pleasant about it too.

            In Viv’s own words, it was delightful.

            There was one thing that did bother The Iron Bull though. It was obvious that the boss was clearly a very skilled mage with a lot of knowledge about some high concept stuff, and as far as he knew, the Dalish didn’t teach that kind of magic. Dalish had always said her clan almost exclusively focused on useful, day-to-day sort of magic. He doubted that included detailed discussions of the origin of spirit magic or the specifics of how exactly a possession works. The boss had some advanced training. He’d never come across a clan that had that kind of training.  She was definitely Dalish though. Really, _really_ Dalish. She spoke more elvhen than anyone he’d ever met, even scholars. Then there were the vallaslin.  He’d never seen a Dalish elf with that extensive tattooing. There were a few too many oddities about the new boss for The Iron Bull to feel completely comfortable around her.  Though to be fair to her, there were very few people he really let his guard down around.

            The Iron Bull looked up when he realized both of the women at the front of their party were looking at him, studying him. It made him a little nervous. Like he’d pissed off his Tama or something. Finally they looked back at each other and Vivienne said, “Perhaps not that level of pruning, but it doesn’t negate my previous point of…”

            The Iron Bull breathed when he realized they weren’t really talking about him. He rubbed the back of his neck. There were a lot of mages in the Inquisition, and he knew his people’s policy on mages was probably going to come up at some point. Fortunately, it hadn’t yet. He’d never really encountered a lot of Sareebas on Par Vollen.  When he got to Saheron he’d fought alongside them and their Arvaraad, but usually just for the duration of a fight or interrogation. Afterwards they’d be herded back to where they were kept. They had kind of creeped him out. He’d felt bad for them, they were born with a shit lot, but some people just were. They were what they were.

            But then he’d think about someone sewing Dalish’s mouth shut.

            The Iron Bull didn’t like to think about that for long.

            He looked back up at the boss. There was a lot about her that was weird, other than her magic. Her halla for one thing. It was fucking huge. Big enough to carry him. He’d never seen one that big at any of the Clans, and Dalish had treated it weird too. All she’d said was that it was special. She’d touched its intricately carved horns then, and he’d never seen her so amazed before. The boss didn’t wear the same robes as other mages either. They were obviously made by the Dalish, but the quality was a whole lot better than any he’d ever said. Krem had talked to some of Josephine’s people and found out that she was from some special Dalish temple, and she was some kind of priest. He hadn’t ever heard of the Dalish keeping active temples before. The boss didn’t come across as a liar, which meant it was probably the truth. The Iron Bull could feel the Ben-Hassrath inside him waking up and being very, _very_ uncomfortable that there were whole groups of Dalish that the Qunari had never even heard of.

            What bothered him the most was that he heard that the other two elves that had followed the Inquisitor to Haven were also priests, and one of them didn’t have any vallaslin. That made him _very_ uncomfortable.

            The Iron Bull had been working on drafts of progress reports to send back home for a week. If there was a secret group of Dalish that didn’t have vallaslin, Dalish that were essentially the Ben-Hassrath of their people if rumors were to be believed, he had to consider that there were some in Par Vollen. But he didn’t have enough information about them yet. Half-true information was worse that no information. The Iron Bull didn’t want to be responsible for a mass culling of Viddathari, particularly if it turned out it hadn’t even been necessary in the first place. He didn’t include the tattoo-less Dalish in his report home.

            Sera groaned loudly, “Are we there yet? My arse hurts!”

            Vivienne scoffed and the boss said, “We should be at the forward camp in under an hour. From there we’ll walk.”

            Sera threw back her head, “Ugh! More trees and bugs and shite!”

            “After we talk to this Warden we’ll head to Redcliffe.” The boss said, trying to mollify the other elf.

            “Yeah!” Sera responded, jerking her head back up, “Where we’re gonna go talk to a bunch of crazy mages who ran away from their Circles!”

            The boss sighed and Vivienne shot Sera a dirty look, but turned to the boss and said, “I really can’t believe I’m saying this but Sera has a point-”

            “Don’t agree with me, I don’t like it.”

            “Fiona and her malcontents aren’t to be trusted. They’ll break their word to us the moment we attempt to establish some semblance of order upon them.”

            The boss sighed, “Maybe, but that’s why we’re going to talk to them. I don’t know Fiona, but I’d like to give her the chance to make her case to us. They may prove to be wonderful allies. You said yourself Lady Vivienne that one of the biggest issues with the break was the timing. Maybe we can help the rebel mages patch up some of the problems that came from such a quick and brutal separation from their traditional role.”

            The boss and Vivienne continued to argue, and The Iron Bull settled back into his saddle. This time Sera was offering the occasional comment, much to the annoyance of Viv. It wouldn’t matter though; nothing those two could say would change the boss’s mind. Wherever she had been trained in magic, The Iron Bull knew where she had been before. He wouldn’t wish slavery on his worst enemy.

            It was in the little things. She always ate her fill at every meal, and while she was a natural caretaker, she was still often first in line. Deprivation has a tendency to make even the most compassionate people selfish. She never took more than her share, but she never took less either. She kept very few personal items, but the few baubles she did carry that meant something to her she always carried. Every time she left her hut or tent, they were tucked into little pockets in her clothing. They’d been bathing in a creek once and The Iron Bull had noticed even then she hadn’t taken off the talisman she wore around her neck. She didn’t trust anything she left anywhere alone to be there when she came back. He also saw the scar then too. It was less noticeable than it likely had been before she’d gotten her tattoos, but it was still there at the top of her left thigh. It was a brand. It had been marred by more cuts overtop, likely self-inflicted after her escape, but he could still see parts of the design beneath. It had healed well, and The Iron Bull suspected magic had been used to help it blend in so well, but it was there. The advanced healing made it harder for him to place exactly how old it was, but The Iron Bull would guess that it occurred when she was a young girl. The other tells gave the same indication. It doesn’t matter how old someone gets, the shit that happens when they’re young stays with them.

            The rebel mages in Redcliffe had fought to escape their cages. The boss would never turn her back on them; no matter what lip service she gave Viv. No matter the danger helping them posed. The Iron Bull was going to have to get used to working with a lot of mages.

\------------

            Fucking mages. Redcliffe had been a shit show. He’d laughed it off at the time, but all the mages under the control of an insane Tevinter magister fucking around with incredibly dangerous magic was one of the worst outcomes that could have happened. At least they weren’t all abominations. Yet.

            At least there was more muscle with the group now. Blackwall seemed to be a decent sort, and he did a good job of distracting Sera from her growing panic at the mage situation. He put up a gruff front, but he was a softie. And a liar, but everyone was about something, and so far The Iron Bull didn’t pick up any signs he was the dangerous sort of liar. He’d tell Red if he decided otherwise. Still, he’d keep his eye on him.

            Then there was the pretty Vint mage they’d met in Redcliffe. Too clever for his own damn good, The Iron Bull could already tell. At least the boss seemed just as uncomfortable around him as The Iron Bull, and he could be sure she’d be keeping a very wary eye on him. She’d been on edge since the moment she found out the Vints were there. The Iron Bull had watched her when she sat across the table from the magister. The boss was normally completely in control of her body language and expression, but he didn’t think she really breathed the entire time she sat there. Her face had stayed blank and her spine stayed straight. She did a good job masking her fear, but The Iron Bull saw it, and he was reasonably sure Alexius saw it too. That would make things difficult going forward. At least by the time they met the pretty Vint she had moved on from fear to anger. The Iron Bull half expected her to rip apart the Vint like she had the demons, but she’d kept her cool and he’d promised his help.

            They were riding back to Haven now, this time Blackwall took the lead with Viv and the boss hung back by The Iron Bull. She was quiet, and anyone else might say she looked contemplative, like a leader going over the day’s events and planning for tomorrow. But The Iron Bull could see what it really was hanging on her shoulders, stress. An old stress. He remembered when Gatt came to serve with him on Seheron. Gatt had already done a lot work to work through his past, and The Iron Bull really thought he had been ready to face the Vints without his anger getting in the way. He was proven very wrong the first time they came across a Vint camp holding slaves. Gatt had gotten his hand on the Vint ‘managing’ the slaves, and The Iron Bull didn’t think the Vint’s mother would have recognized the poor bastard after Gatt was done. Gatt fought him on it, but The Iron Bull sent him back home after that. He still didn’t know if Gatt would ever really get past what happened to him when he was young.

            He watched the boss now and realized that, while she put up a good front, she hadn’t move past it either. The Iron Bull was certain that the only thing she was thinking about with her blank face and stiff back was what she had experienced in Tevinter. He didn’t think anyone really moved on from something like that, you just learn how to live with it better.

            “Bull.”

            The boss’s voice pulled The Iron Bull from his thoughts, “Yeah boss, what’s up?”

            “Would you do me a favor?”

            She wasn’t looking at him, instead staring over the top of her Halla’s head, “Depends on the favor boss.”

            She opened her mouth but hesitated a moment before speaking, “When we get back to Haven I am going to meet with the others about how best to handle the situation in Redcliffe. It will almost certainly involve me returning to Redcliffe while it is still occupied by a Tevinter magister and his people. Agreed?”

            “Yeah, almost definitely. You want me to come with you? Watch your back?”

            “No. I want you to go to Crestwood with the Chargers to help clean up undead and reassert order in the region.”

            “Okay,” The Iron Bull hesitated, “what’s the catch?”

            “I need you take Sahren and Rasa with you. I will tell them that I want them to learn more about how the humans live and how to work with non-elvhen. Rasa already has plenty of experience on that front, but they will assume I am sending them to keep and eye on Sahren. You will need to leave quickly, before they catch wind of whatever plan sends me back to Redcliffe. They can’t know about it until it’s resolved, one way or another. Sahren will do what I tell him. Rasa will too but they’ll ask more questions.”

            “Are you sure lying to them is the best solution here?”

            The boss paused a moment, “The Qun doesn’t allow you to raise children, does it Bull?”

            “No boss. But I’ve mentored younger kids before.”

            The boss nodded, “Did you care about them?”

            The Iron Bull thought about Gatt, about how when he first met the elf The Iron Bull could toss him with one hand, “Yeah boss.”

            The boss turned to him, “Is it wrong to not want to put them at risk? To not expose them to even the chance of-”

            The boss stopped talking, but he could see the end of the sentence in her eyes. She looked forward again after that.

            “They’ll be pissed.”

            “Better than enslaved.”

            “The rest of us can keep you all safe, not to mention those two can look after themselves.”

            “I know they can, and I know you’ll do your best, but I can’t risk it.”

            The Iron Bull could hear she was resolute. He knew this was a terrible idea, but she wouldn’t change her mind.

            “Sure thing boss.”

            “Thanks Bull.”


	10. Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip is taken.

Dorian was spinning and fell onto his knees into what he sincerely hoped was water. He lifted his head up limply and briefly took in the sight of dank stone walls around him before his head flew forward again and he was puking. His head hadn’t stopped throbbing and all he could think about was how disjointed he felt.  He faintly heard someone saying his name, but couldn’t yet comprehend it. He felt a hand rub his back as he finished divesting himself of his breakfast. The hand on his back was joined by another who pulled him into a light, oddly positioned hug. He realized it was odd because they were both on their knees. He looked up at the person holding him and realized it was Lavellan.

            Of course it was. She had been standing right next to him when-

            Dorian’s head whipped back to their surroundings and realized they were still in Redcliffe Castle, but something was very wrong. He looked back up at Lavellan and though she’d been helping her, she looked like she was feeling rather off as well. She too was studying their surroundings. She whispered, “Dorian, where are we?”

            Dorian squinted as he tried to focus and remember exactly what had happened. They had been talking to Alexius in the throne room, revealed their plan, and then he-

            He had tried to use the amulet on them.

            The amulet that altered time.

            Dorian’s whole body went stiff as the realization of what happened fully dawned on him. Lavellan looked concerned and turned his face to look up at her, “Dorian, you’re pale, what’s wrong?”

            “The question my friend is where,” Dorian croaked, “It’s when.”

            Dorian stared at Lavellan’s face as she processed this. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes flitted around, slowly her face fell, and her mouth opened slightly. She looked like she was grasping for exactly the right thing to say.

            “Fuck.”

            Dorian, despite everything, laughed, “Precisely.”

            The two froze when they heard the distinctive sound of metal armor echoing through the hallway that led away from their small room. The two mages pulled themselves to their feet. Lavellan pulled her staff from her back and Dorian picked his up from where he had dropped it when he landed.  Two Venatori agents rounded the corner of the hallway and seemed jumped slightly.

            “Blood of the Elder One!” One cried.

            They charged into the room, but Dorian and Lavellan were prepared. Dorian reached into the mind of the agent charging at him and made him see his worst fears, which slowed the man long enough for Dorian to craft a fire spell powerful enough to engulf the agent. As the agent screamed Dorian turned to Lavellan just in time to see he raise her staff and see the ground rise up around the agent approaching her. The man was engulfed by the dirt and stone and sucked down into it as Lavellan lowered her staff with a sharp crack. The man Dorian had been fighting collapsed into the shallow water around them and the room went quiet.

            “Neat trick.” Dorian complimented.

            “Thank you.” Lavellan responded, “So, you’re the expert in this magic. Do you have any ideas of how to fix this?”

            Dorian nodded, “I’m ruminating on a particularly lovely idea, but the conditions will have to be just right. I suggest we start with answering the previous question of ‘when are we’ first.”

            Lavellan nodded back at Dorian, “Agreed. Shall we? No time to waste.”

            “Hah.” Dorian said dryly before leading the way out of the room.

            Stealth was essential. Dorian and Lavellan moved through the dark halls like shadows, there way lit only by the eerie glow of the red lyrium.  Dorian felt a migraine growing at the back of his skull, and he had a feeling the lyrium was the cause. It felt like his worst hangover. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lavellan’s brow furrowed and her mouth set in a thin line, so he was fairly sure he wasn’t alone in his pain. The pair carefully worked their way through the maze of stone tunnels, quickly and quietly wiping out any resistance they encountered until they descended into a deep dungeon. The air was still and the two almost turned around and abandoned it as a dead end Lavellan stopped dead in her tracks. Dorian saw her ear twitch back behind her and her face fall.

            The elven woman moved as though each part of her body had to take a moment to remember how to work properly. Slowly she turned back to face the cell at the end of the row. Dorian didn’t think she was breathing. He inched closer to her and whispered, “What is it? What do you hear in there?”

            Dorian held his staff at the ready, but Lavellan dropped hers as she edged closer to the cell. Dorian picked up the abandoned weapon and followed her. His eyes could barely make out the small ball of a person in the corner of the cell. He could hear words come from the person, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He squinted to try and see who it was. Lavellan didn’t have to.

            “Sera?” Her voice cracked.

            The head whipped up and dirty blonde hair flew around the elf’s face and Dorian could see that the Herald was right. The young woman’s big blue eyes widened and she scurried on her hands and feet further into the corner.

            “No no no. You can’t be here. You’re dead and they don’t come back.”

            Dorian’s heart sunk at the horror on the poor girls face. He remembered their journey to Haven together. She hadn’t stopped picking at him and getting on his last nerve. She was loud, blunt, and told the dirtiest jokes. He had actually rather like her, not that he could let her know that. The girl huddled in the corner in front him wasn’t any of those things and Dorian could feel his heart break a little.

            Lavellan quickly unlocked the cell and opened the door, but she didn’t step inside. Instead she knelt down a little away from the exit and held out her hand.

            “Sera,” she said softly, “I’m here. I didn’t die. Alexius used… very strange magic to send me forward in time. For me it feels like I saw you only an hour ago.”

            Sera didn’t move but she didn’t say anything either, so Lavellan continued, “I don’t know exactly what happened, and I need your help to figure it out. Dorian and I think we can fix what happened and go back to when the spell was cast. Make it so none of whatever happened here ever took place.”

            “He killed you, that what happened,” Sera’s voice was small when she finally spoke, “And then the Elder One strolled in and made everything shite.”

            The girl looked like she was going to cry, “I ran out of arrows. When you went away I ran out of arrows trying to make them pay,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “but it didn’t matter. Didn’t stop anything.”

            Dorian tried to sound gentle when he asked, “Sera this is important. When was that? How long ago did we disappear?”

            Sera looked up, as if noticing him for the first time, “You died a year ago.”

            Maker, they’d been gone a year.

            Lavellan’s face froze. Her mouth opened but her eyes just kept flitting around. Finally they closed and he could hear her mumbling prayers to her gods. Sera stared at her while she prayed. The younger elf’s face hardened and finally rose to her feet.

            “I’m gonna need a bow.”

            “I just killed an archer up those stairs.” Dorian supplied.

            Sera nodded at him before strolling past the pair. When she walked past him he felt a little nauseous as he felt the red lyrium radiating from her. He could see it glowing under the skin in her neck where blood veins should have been. Lavellan stared at the young woman, still on the floor. Dorian leaned down and gently took her elbow. She startled and whipped her head around to stare at him. Her eyes were still lost for a moment before she spoke. Her voice sounded so defeated as her mouth spat out, “I failed.” 

            Dorian was suddenly struck with guilt. She hadn’t failed. He had. This had been his plan. Certainly she and the other leaders of the inquisition had figured out how to get in to the castle, but he had been the one certain that he could stop Alexius when the time came. Every awful thing that followed was a direct result of his arrogance. He was no better than his father, assuming he could do no wrong.

            Dorian shook himself out of his thoughts. It wasn’t helpful.

            He reached out too Lavellan again and helped her up, “Come now, we haven’t failed yet. We can still stop all of this from happening.”

            Lavellan nodded and whispered to herself, “There is no where you can go where Mythal will not stand with you.”

            It sounded like something she had recited to herself many times, but Dorian knew they didn’t have time to have a casual conversation about her religion. He’d have to wait until after the next time they performed theoretically impossible magic for all that. The pair followed Sera out the door and up the stairs. The younger elf took the lead and told them that she had an idea of where the Venatori had taken Cassandra. He watched her as she tested the feel of the bow string in her fingers again. He saw her flinch when she pulled it to full draw. He didn’t know the full effects of the red lyrium on a living person yet, but Dorian didn’t imagine they were pleasant. 

            The trio moved through the halls quickly. Sera was almost continuously muttering to herself and kept glancing back at Lavellan, as if to assure herself that the other elf was still there. Lavellan sidled up to Sera and said nothing as she extended her hand slightly so it barely brushed Sera’s hand. Sera took the invitation and clung to Lavellan’s hand with her own. Neither woman looked at each other. Dorian checked behind them to make sure no one was following. He felt like he was intruding. He looked forward again when he heard Sera sniffle. She was still staring forward as they walked, but he saw Lavellan squeeze her hand. Sera walked slightly closer to the older elf.

            The two didn’t let go of each other until Sera opened a heavy wooden door, saying, “Right, Cassandra should be through here.”

            The group emerged into a dungeon nearly identical to the one they had found Sera in. Dorian didn’t need Lavellan’s elven hearing this time to here their companions voice. She was singing hymns. Loudly. And off key. Sera barked out a laugh and Dorian couldn’t help but giggle. Lavellan shot them both dirty looks but he couldn’t help it. They hadn’t been able to unclench a single muscle for over an hour and they were in a horrifying situation, sometime you just had to laugh when you could. 

            The singing stopped and Cassandra called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

            Lavellan approached the cell first with Sera and Dorian close on her heels. Cassandra’s eyes widened as she took in the group. Sera spoke up before Lavellan could, “Come on Cassandra, we’re getting out of here and stopping the bad guys. Just like old times.”

            Sera took the keys from Lavellan and quickly unlocked the cell. Before anyone could move, Cassandra burst out of the cell and grabbed Lavellan by her throat and pushed her across the room until she had her off her the floor and slammed up against the opposite wall.

            “You! You did this!” Cassandra bellowed.

            Dorian and Sera jumped to pull the warrior off Lavellan. Even in her weakened state it took both of them to hold her back from the elf. Lavellan dropped to the ground and gasped for breath.

            “What the fuck was that?” Dorian demanded.

            “He wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for her people!”

            “Cassandra what the shite are you on about?” Sera asked.

            Finally the two were able to push Cassandra away from Lavellan and stood between her and the infuriated Seeker. Cassandra was panting and glaring daggers at Lavellan.

            “We found out after you were taken in the Hinterlands.” Cassandra said to Sera.

            “Found out what?”

            “The Elder One. He found her heathen temples.”

            Lavellan whipped her head up to stare at Cassandra and gasped out, “He what? How?”

            Cassandra let out a wry laugh, “Hah, now you care. We don’t know. But we do know only those who believe in your heathen gods can find them, which means your people must have taken him there. That’s where he found the weapons.”

            Lavellan stared at Cassandra and finally blurted out, “I’m sorry Cassandra but what the fuck are you talking about?”

            “I’m talking about the magical weapons your people gave The Elder One. Once he had them none of our armies could stand against him. He swiped his hand and the ground swallowed them whole. He sent his army of demons to wipe out anyone who survived the initial onslaught, and when he assassinated the Empress any semblance of resistance was completely wiped out. We never stood a chance. And now here you stand, amazingly alive. When we discovered where he had gotten his weapons, I didn’t believe those who said that it was you had betrayed us, but now I can see no alternative. It was you all along. You and your people’s hatred of humans drove you to destroy the world. Are you happy now? Will you rule the ashes?”

            “Cassandra,” Dorian stepped in, “Alexius sent us forward in time. To us it’s only been around an hour since we confronted him in the throne room.”

            It was Cassandra’s turn to look confused, “What?”

            Lavellan held her fingers to her temples as she stared at a spot on floor in front of Cassandra. Finally she looked up at the Seeker.

            “Cassandra,” she began, “do you really think if the elvhen had a secret warehouse of extremely powerful magical weapons that the Exalted March on the Dales would have _ever happened_?”

            “Well-”

            “Also,” Lavellan continued, holding up her hand, “it’s wards that keep our temples safe from shemlen. Very old and very powerful wards, but still just magical wards. If this ‘Elder One’ is as powerful as you say, it is entirely plausible that he could bypass them.”

            Cassandra went quiet. However, Lavellan seemed to realize the implication of what she had just said.

            “Mythal protect me, he might be able to bypass the wards.”

            Lavellan walked away from the others to the far wall and slid down it and whispered again, “He might be able to bypass the wards.”

            Cassandra lowered her guard slightly, “You claim there are no weapons in your temples, then why did he emerge from them with them?”

            Lavellan tilted her head to look up Cassandra and shook her head slightly, “I have no idea. I am the second highest ranking member of my order and I have never heard of any such items. Why do you assume they came from us?”

            “We had our best scouts following his army. They couldn’t get too close but they saw his army stroll into your sacred temples. At the next battle with our armies he unveiled them. He stopped no where else in between.”

            “What of the people in the temples.”

            Cassandra paused, for the first time looking sympathetic towards Lavellan, “There were no survivors, we assumed he had betrayed them. Just as he had so many others. He… he burned the temple of Mythal. He locked the priests inside.”

            The Herald of Andraste allowed the moisture that had been gathering in her eyes to finally run freely down her face and onto the stone floor of that awful dungeon. Dorian brushed past Cassandra and knelt down next to her. 

            “Remember, we _are_ going to fix this. None of this has to happen. We can stop all of it. We’ll protect your people and everyone else.”

            “He knows where they are Dorian. We don’t have weapons. We have one order that is something of a military, but nothing that could contend with him. We’re not like Orlais or Ferelden. We don’t have anyone coming to save us. We have no allies.”

            “They have you. They have the Inquisition. We’ll keep them safe.”

            Cassandra approached slowly, “You truly don’t know of any weapons that your people posses?”

            “No.”

            Cassandra hesitated before she kneeled down on the other side of Lavellan, “I apologize. You say you have a plan to stop all of this from ever happening?”

            Lavellan nodded and Dorian said, “Yes. We need to get the amulet that Alexius used to send us forward in time. I believe that I can use it to send us back.”

            Cassandra nodded and held out her hand to Lavellan. The elf stared at the hand a moment before taking it. Cassandra pulled her up and put her hand on the elf’s shoulder, “Then I will help you see it done.”

            Lavellan wiped at her face and righted herself before nodding, “Thank you Cassandra.”

            “Right,” Sera called from behind them, “we’re all good then? We going or what?”

            Cassandra nodded and took the lead, striding with more strength than Dorian believed she really had left. Like Sera, Cassandra’s veins glowed an unnatural red and it had begun seeping into the blood vessels in her eyes and made them glow slightly.

            The effect was unsettling.

            Sera trotted after Cassandra, showing her where they had killed a warrior back the way they’d come so she could arm herself. Dorian was about to follow them out when he realized Lavellan wasn’t right behind him. He turned and saw her looking into the cell Cassandra had been kept in. Her eyes were wide and sad and her mouth was tight. Her hands were shaking slightly and her ears were twitching wildly.  She looked like she might cry again. Then she closed her eyes.

            First her eyebrows lowered and then her mouth relaxed. The wrinkles slowly eased away in her temples. Her hands slowed until they stopped. Finally her ears jerked less and less until they two had stilled. She wasn’t moving. She took only slow and deliberate breaths until even her breathing was almost imperceptible. The whole thing made Dorian’s skin itch.

            It was like watching someone’s last moments before death.

            Then she opened her eyes and the Herald of Andraste turned back to him with determination in her eyes.

            “Let’s finish this.” She said coolly as she brushed past him.

            Dorian didn’t say anything as he followed her out. 

            The four made their way through the rest of the dungeon and towards the surface. Dorian had been feeling off since they arrived, and at first he wrote it off as a side effect of the spell or maybe the red lyrium, but now he wasn’t sure. It felt like there was something crawling under his skin, but not necessarily in a bad way. It was a strange feeling.

            When Cassandra threw the door to the courtyard open, Dorian began to get a firmer idea of where the feeling came from.

            The sky was ripped apart. A hazy green spread in every direction and there were floating chunks of castle and mountain as high up as Dorian could see. Much closer, maybe only a few miles up and away, was the Black City. It’s spires curved high into the sky and it shone like onyx and looked just as sharp and dangerous. Next to him Lavellan squinted when she saw it. 

            Lavellan murmured, “It looks different outside the fade.” 

            Cassandra nodded, “It showed up after The Elder One ripped open the Breach.”

            “Why is it so close to Redcliffe?” Dorian asked.

            “It moves. It emerged in Tevinter, but now it travels with The Elder One.”

            It took a moment for that information to sink in, but then Dorian’s blood ran cold.

            Lavellan seemed to be thinking along the same lines, “We need to hurry.”

            With a renewed sense of urgency the group fought their way through the hordes of demons and Venatori that inhabited the castle. The Fade flowed more freely in this future, and Dorian could feel it so much more vividly every time he cast a spell. It felt less like translating common in his head and more like breathing. He suspected Lavellan felt the same after she lifted her staff and entire section of floor rose under a Venatori warrior and slammed him into the ceiling, crushing him. She took a moment afterwards to collect herself. Dorian could understand that. The feeling of that much magic flowing through him almost felt unnatural and-

            Then she did it again to another warrior. A rogue leapt at her and the next moment the man was burning.

            With the entry hall cleared, Dorian joined his companions walking towards the imposing door to where Alexius would be waiting. For the first time Dorian felt the implications of what was about to happen. They were going to very likely march into that throne room, kill Alexius, and reverse the spell that sent them forward in time. Oddly, it wasn’t the possibly impossible magic that unnerved him the most.

            Alexius had been a better father to Dorian than his real father ever had been. He had been kind and sympathetic. Pushed him to do his best, but never derided him when he failed. The only time Dorian had ever seen him truly upset with him was during that last argument they had before Dorian left for good. All of the ways that things could have been different if Dorian hadn’t been so young and stupid flashed through his head. If he hadn’t been so callous and arrogant, maybe none of this would have happened.

            Dorian didn’t notice he had stopped until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked to its owner and saw that Lavellan’s stony expression had softened.

            “Are you ready?” She asked quietly.

            She reminded him a bit of Livia, Alexius’s wife. She had been kind too. Ruthless, clever, and ambitious; but kind. She once took care of Dorian when was young and he had pushed himself to hard and made himself sick. He had a fever so high that he had become delirious. She had sung to him while she cast a spell to cool him down. When she died Dorian had chided Alexius for being so distraught, for allowing it to distract him from his work.

            Dorian nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again. I'm working on edits of each of the chapters. It's slow work and I'm going to upload all the edited chapters at once. I'll post something on the tumblr page (https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com) for this fanfic when I do that and I'll also put it in the chapter notes for the next chapter I publish after I finish them. We're getting real close to Ellana's first chapter. I'm real excited about that one.


	11. Blackwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall contemplates what has happened

        The old Warden sat on a rock staring out at the ragtag camp shivering in the snow and sharpened his sword. He had been doing this for the past hour.

        The survivors of the attack milled around the camp trying to stay busy, but no one really knew what to do one minute to the next. No one knew what to do past the next few hours either. 

        It was a mess.

        The temperature was falling with the sun but Blackwall barely noticed. He knew he should be down there trying to help the others, but if he was honest with himself he didn’t know if he had really processed what had happened either. 

        The Herald of Andraste, the greatest hope for saving Thedas, was dead.

         When she had burst into the Chantry carrying a wounded Flissa, Blackwall had allowed himself to hope that they would all find a way out of this mess. Her armor was scorched and she had a nasty cut on her forehead, but she was alive. He had been gathering up the children to make sure they were all accounted for when he saw Cullen approach her. Blackwall couldn’t hear what they were saying and the little dwarven girl, Felicity, was tugging on his armor and crying. Blackwall turned away from the Herald a moment to comfort the child before turning back to watch what was happening at the front of the Chantry.

        He saw Lady Lavellan’s face fall and his blood ran cold.

        It only lasted a moment before she set her face again with a look of determination. She said a few more things to Cullen before she turned and started walking towards the door again. Cullen said called after her and Blackwall ran after them. She stopped just short of the door before turning to Cullen and saying, “I’m not going to ask anyone to come with me.”

        Blackwall didn’t know what the mission was, but he was ready, “Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to ask my lady. What’s the plan?”

        Lady Lavellan’s eyes softened as she looked at the grizzled old warrior, “I appreciate the offer Ser Blackwall, but you don’t have to come with me on this one.”

        Bull and Sera approached then and Bull asked, “Come where? You got a plan to get out of this mess boss?”

        Lady Lavellan’s eyes scanned the three of them sadly with a set line in her mouth before nodding, “There is a way to evacuate everyone in the Chantry.”

        “Great!” barked Sera, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get going!”

        Lady Lavellan sighed and smiled sadly, “Someone needs to buy time. It’ll very likely be a one way trip.”

        The small gathering went quiet and Cullen stared at the ground with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips in a harsh line. Blackwall began to open his mouth when Sera interrupted, “I said what I said. What are we waitin' for?”

        The younger elf stood as tall as she could and put her fists on her hips, but Blackwall could see them shaking slightly. Lady Lavellan could see it too and for a moment it looked like she might cry. Bull looked over Sera’s head to Blackwall and nodded, and Blackwall nodded back. 

        Suddenly Blackwall hear Sahren call out behind him, “Raj’ha’haren, what’s the plan?”

        Sahren marched up to them with Rasa as his shadow. Lady Lavellan’s face went hard as stone and she took a moment before saying in a firm voice, “We have a plan to hold off the dragon, but I need the two of you to help Commander Cullen evacuate the civilians. We’ll catch up to you.”

        Sahren nodded like the good soldier he was, but his twin scrutinized their mentor’s face. Lady Lavellan turned away before Rasa could decipher anything. Blackwall understood worrying about everyone serving under you knowing everything, he also knew she was making a mistake.

        Not that Blackwall had a leg to stand on when it came to leadership.

        Sahren turned on his heel, pulling his twin with him. Lady Lavellan nodded and said, “Right, we don’t have any time to waste.” She turned to Commander Cullen, “Are you ready to move out.”

        Cullen gave a curt nod, “Yes my lady.”

        “Good, you’d best get going. It’s best if you slip out quietly I think.”

        Blackwall saw Solas out of the corner of his eyes watching the small party intently before turning and walking away. Blackwall went to get his gear when Felicity caught his eye and smiled. Blackwall smiled back and waved before donning his sword and shield. She made a funny face at the old soldier and he crossed his eyes. The child giggled as she was dragged away by an older woman trying to corral all the children. 

        Blackwall decided he was comfortable with dying today. He would be following a worthy commander for once in his life. He would be saving those children. 

        He would be doing something right.

        He joined the others at the entrance of the Chantry. Bull was discussing tactics with Lay Lavellan and Sera was checking her arrows. He knew it was what she did when she was nervous. He lowered his voice further and said, “You know, I think you’ll earn a beard for this.”

        Sera looked confused for a moment before barking out a laugh, “Yeah? You gonna give me one of yours?”

        “I may,” Blackwall said seriously, “but just the one.”

        Sera laugh again as Lady Lavellan approached them asking, “Ready?”

        Sera grew quiet and bobbed her head. Lady Lavellan looked at Blackwall and he nodded sharply. The Herald nodded back at the two of them and said, “Well then. Let’s get going.”

        She pulled out her staff and Bull pulled out his massive cleaver and set his shoulder against the door.

        “Okay,” The qunari said, “I’m gonna open this door, the boss is gonna blast whatever is outside back as far as she can, then Blackwall needs to take point and keep them back while the boss and Sera get through the door. After that I’ll get the door closed which Cullen will barricade behind us. Then I’ll cover the boss’s right and Blackwall you’ll cover her left. Sera, you provide support and make sure we don’t get surprised by anything. We need to get to the trebuchet that’s still standing and hurl something big and heavy at the mountain. Everyone got that?”

        Everyone nodded. Blackwall noticed that Cassandra had gotten most of the people out of the main hall and was arguing with Cullen. They both looked up and Cullen nodded while Cassandra’s face fell in horror. Cullen must have just filled her in, he was holding Cassandra’s arm.

        Lady Lavellan commanded quickly, “Bull now.”

        Bull heaved the door open and everything began to move much faster. Fire erupted from Lady Lavellan’s staff, throwing back the few red templars patrolling past the door. Blackwall charged forward and slammed his shield into a knight that had kept his footing. He heard Lady Lavellan and Sera run out behind him and he saw vines spring from the ground and hold down a footsoldier still on the ground as an arrow struck the head of another starting to get up. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind them and Blackwall could faintly hear Cassandra yelling angrily on the other side of them, but they were drowned out by the screams of the footsoldier being held down as Bull’s axe came down across his torso.

        The four of them slowly worked their way through Haven and towards the trebuchet, but the soldiers never seemed to stop coming. A group of four knights jumped over a section of crumpled wall, cutting them off. He glanced to his right and saw the grim set of Bull’s face. Lady Lavellan began to cast a barrier spell to try and give them all an edge.

        Blackwall hadn’t seen the shadow warrior coming up behind the Herald.

        Everything seemed to slow as he saw the creature bring up it’s twin blades right behind her. Blackwall wasn’t close enough to do anything and Sera hadn’t noticed it. Blackwall cried out for her to look out, but then the creature froze.

        Lady Lavellan turned quickly and was greeted by an icy blade less than an inch from her face. Then the knight furthest back in the group crumpled to the ground without warning. 

        Rasa stood behind him with their bloody knives drawn and mockingly bowed to their mentor before spinning away towards the next knight. Sera and Bull jumped back in to help the rogue. Solas strolled up next to Lady Lavellan and twisting his staff in a precise movement, shattering the shadow. 

        Solas smiled at the other elf, “I didn’t think you’d want them coming on their own. I convinced Sahren to go ahead to rondevu point.”

        “ _ You _ convinced Sahren to do something?” Lady Lavellan asked, smiling back.

        “I can be very charming.”

        Lady Lavellan smiled at him in a way that made Blackwall feel like he was prying. He turned back to the battle and helped Rasa bring down a knight. He felt heat behind him and turned to see Lady Lavellan torching the last one while Solas kept it down with some unseen force.

        Blackwall huffed behind them, “Phew, smells like Sera’s cooking.”

        Sera held her nose, “Ugh, it does.”

        Rasa glided up to Lady Lavellan’s other side and bumped her shoulder lightly. Lady Lavellan turned to them and murmured to them so quietly Blackwall could barely hear her, “You do what I say, when I say.”

        Rasa nodded curtly.

        The party continued forward to the trebuchet. When they arrived it was blessedly clear of enemies. There was already a stone loaded into the contraption.

        There were a lot of dead soldiers around its base.

        Lady Lavellan stared at the young faces. The oldest was the furthest out, likely having led the charge to defend the trebuchet. At the base was a boy who couldn’t have been older than fourteen. His unblemished sword lay near him. His face was frozen in agony. 

        Blackwall laid a hand on the Herald’s shoulder, “There’s nothing you can do for them now. But we can still help those they loved.”

        Lady Lavellan nodded and strode forward to the trebuchet and Blackwall followed. The others set up a defensive line around the perimeter in case any more templars appeared. Lady Lavellan grunted in effort as she pushed against the large wheel to turn the trebuchet. She was a strong woman, but mages rarely had cause to build physical strength.

        Blackwall whispered softly next to her, “If I may be of assistance Herald?”

        Lady Lavellan looked up at him and smiled before nodding. Blackwall took position next to her and began to turn the wheel with her. A few templar stragglers approached while they worked, but they were nothing that the others couldn’t handle. When the massive machine was finally aimed Blackwall took a step back to look at the mountain it would hit. The bright and cold snow stared down at him, and for the first time since he had walked out of the Chantry this evening Blackwall felt a little fear crawl up his spine.

        Lady Lavellan stared with him for a moment before turning to address the others, “All right, I’m going fire this and then we run. If we move fast enough we should be able to reach the Chantry and get into the hidden tunnel before the avalanche reaches us. Be ready to move. Leave anything weighing you down here if you can live without it.”

        The others nodded and began to prepare themselves. Blackwall removed his shield and placed it on the body of the young boy. Blackwall knew what the odds were of them all reaching the Chantry in time, but the Herald had a way of speaking with confidence that made it sound more likely than it really was. She believed they would make, so he would believe her. 

        The Herald still stood next to him and spoke to him quietly so the others wouldn’t hear, “Blackwall, I need you to do something for me.”

        “Anything my lady.” Blackwall responded, meaning it with every bone in his body.

        “I need you to stay with Rasa, make sure they make it to the Chantry. No matter what else happens. Can you do that?”

        Blackwall studied the woman in front of him, seeing uncharacteristic fear on her face. Anyone else, Blackwall included, would have felt fear first and foremost for themselves. But not her.

        Never her.

        No, she feared for the safety of her companion, the rogue Blackwall suspected she looked at as her own child. The warrior remembered another time he saw that fear in a woman’s eyes. 

        When he had been the cause.

        The boundless guilt of his past crept through him and gripped his heart like a claw. He swallowed hard and nodded, “I will protect them with my life.”

        Lady Lavellan smiled softly and looked just a little bit lighter than she had a moment before and grip on his heart loosened slightly. He would do this for her.

        Blackwall watched her walk up the platform to inspect the winch before he turned to join the others. Rasa waited impatiently furthest out, their eyes scanning the tree line for any enemies that may approach. There was still an army marching towards them. 

        Blackwall coughed to announce his presence, “We should stay with the others Ser.”

        Rasa scanned the treeline one more time before turning back and nodding. Blackwall waited for them to walk past him before following. They rejoined the others where Iron Bull and Solas were discussing the best possible routes back to the Chantry while Sera nervously paced back and forth. Rasa walked far more casually than the situation warranted up to Sera and rocked back on their heels. Sera glanced at the other rogue curiously.

        Rasa leaned over to Sera and said, “Ten gold says I can beat you back to the Chantry.”

        Blackwall groaned and Sera barked out a laugh, Iron Bull scoffed and said, “Those are rookie odds. I bet forty Sera wins.”

        “Oi!” Sera shouted, “What’s my share of that?”

        “Half of course.”

        Sera shrugged, “I suppose, it’s not like your fat arse could really compete anyway.”

        “Hey, my fat ass has pulled you out plenty of tight spots.”

        Blackwall couldn’t help but grin. He glanced over at Solas and his grin fell. The oldest elf in their company didn’t smile or laugh. He hadn’t chosen to forget the real stakes. 

        No one heard the roar before it was too late.

        The massive black and red beast crashed into the ground with such force Blackwall was thrown back against one of the remaining walls surrounding Haven. As soon as his vision cleared he searched for the others. Iron Bull was helping up Sera and Solas stood next to them. Rasa had fallen next to them and Blackwall ran to help them up. He glanced around and realized one of their company was missing. 

        The Herald.

        His head whipped over to where the trebuchet still stood.

        On the other side of the dragon.

        Lady Lavellan caught his eye. She looked a little shaken, but uninjured. Her eyes slid from him to the elf he was holding up and her eyes widened. Blackwall couldn’t hear her over the roar of the dragon and the ringing in his ears but sudden determination in her eyes and her mouthed word made her orders clear.

        Run.

        Rasa could barely stand but tried to fall forward toward the Herald and cried out, “Mae!”

        For the briefest of moments Blackwall could see Lady Lavellan’s eyes shine and crinkle before his view was obstructed by the beast. Time seemed to slow as he came to his decision. He grabbed the rogue and tossed them over his shoulder. He looked at Iron Bull whose eye was tight as he nodded. He pulled Sera along as she yelled and spat at him. Solas didn’t look at him and just stared at the dragon. His mouth was slightly open as his eyes flitted around, his fingers tightening and loosening. It was likely only seconds had passed, but it felt like hours before Solas finally turned and followed after Iron Bull with Blackwall tailing him. Rasa was still screeching and beating at him, but their likely broken leg kept them from wriggling too much. 

        Blackwall heard another voice for the briefest moment on the other side of the dragon before he was out of earshot. When the group reached the top of the hill just outside the Chantry doors they heard the trebuchet fire. Blackwall spared a moment to turn and watch the boulder hit the mountain side.

        Exactly where he and the Herald had planned for it to go.

        The snow began to slide down the slope and the sight spurred him to move again. Solas had opened the doors and slammed them shut as soon as Blackwall and Iron Bull had gotten the other elves through. The rest of the journey to catch up with the rest of the Inquisition was silent. Blackwall still had to carry Rasa but the rogue had gone startling silent. Sera had screamed and yelled for a while before she too seemed to run out of energy.

        They were all alone to grapple with what they had done.

        Blackwall had to grapple with what he had done.

        He had left Andraste’s Herald to die.

        He had abandoned her.

        He looked down at Rasa in his arms and tried to remember that she had asked him to keep them safe. He had just been keeping his promise.

        That didn’t make the guilt’s vice grip on his heart loosen.

        Now he sat on a rock overlooking the camp, as useless as he had been when the dragon showed up. He should have given Rasa to Iron Bull and gone to defend her. As time passed and the panic settled he had more time to think of everything he should have done. Every other better path he could have taken.

        How many great people’s deaths would he be responsible for before his own end.

        Blackwall buried his head in his head in his head and let himself sob for the first time in a long time. He thought this time would be different. She had been everything a leader should be. Kind, brave, clever, and wise. Too many had one of those traits, and too few had all. She had put her faith in him and he had found her deserving of his. She could have accomplished great things, changed the world.

        And he had let her die.

        Suddenly there were shouts from the camp below. Blackwall looked up and saw a group run up to a few people emerging from the gap in the mountain they had made their camp against. Blackwall squinted to see and saw it was Commander Cullen and Seeker Pentaghast, and the commander seemed to be carrying something.

        Someone.

The person’s hand rested on their stomach and Blackwall's heart seized when he saw the slightest flicker of green from it.

        Blackwall fell to his news and clasped his hands. 

        “Blessed Andraste, I know I have not been as faithful as I should, but if you allow your Herald to live I swear to you I will follow wherever she leads. The coldest of mountains to the most blight ridden deserts. Only death will take me from her side. I will be her counsel and her guard. You have my oath in this.”

        Blackwall paused and whispered the last part of his prayer, “Please just let her live, let her finish her work.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen used  
> Mae- shortened term for mother
> 
> Hey everyone! Thanks for being patient. I was traveling for the holidays and didn't have time to finish this chapter up until yesterday. Also anyone who was excited to read the beginning of my edits (I know I was), the first two chapters have gone through edits. They aren't major plot edits, I just think they read better now. Big thank you to my editor, my brother, who works full time and is still working through this fic slowly and being very supportive. Next chapter is our last companion chapter (Cole) and then we get to Ellana! I'm really excited y'all.


	12. Cole

        You are drowning.

        The horrors they have all witnessed pull at you like angry and desperate claws.

        There are too many. Clawing up your body and around your throat.

        You can’t breathe.

        A little girl is crying. People are saying scary things to her and she doesn’t understand. It’s not right. She can’t find mummy. I can’t find mummy. I just need to find mummy. Mummy is brave. Mummy is soldier. Mummy’s such a good soldier she was picked to keep one of the fancy people safe. Mummy will make the scary things go away.

        The girl is crying in an alcove, exhausted and alone. You hold her as she cries and sing the songs her mother sang whenever she was scared. You find her a blanket. It’s worn, but warm. She’ll be warm. You tell the kind old woman taking care of the orphans where to find her.

        She lost a child. But that was the Blight. It is an old hurt. A scar rather than an open wound. She doesn’t need you.

        She will give all the love she had for her son to these children.

        The letter is almost here. The messenger is making his way up the mountain.

        A man sits alone in the library drinking wine. The room is still dusty and broken down. But he just wants to be alone. I’m better alone. I wonder what my father will think of this? Surely word would have reached home by now. This is so important, I hope he’s proud. Foolish. Stupid. I’ll be a disappointment, as always. Damn. Should have grabbed two bottles of the red.

        You take the bottle to keep it from slipping out of his fingers and shattering on the ground. He’s so drunk it’s easy to make sure he doesn’t see you.

        You tell him that what he’s doing is important. He knows that in his heart, and that’s what’s most important. It’s understandable that he wants his father to be proud of him. Every child wants their parents approval. But first and foremost he needs to be confident in his own decisions. He knows himself best. And he is making the right decisions. 

        He is similar to Alexius, but only in the good ways. He is the best of what Alexius taught him. He won’t make the same mistakes.

        The man slumps into the dingy old chair and holds his head in his hands.

        Better, but not fixed.

        None of this could really be fixed.

        You just want to help.

        Another hurt grips you and drags you from the library and through the stone halls. Too many are pulling at you. You don’t know which one has won out.

        You slide past the old wolf in the rotunda. He looks you in the eye with pity as you pass.

        He sees you. 

        And then you don’t feel his hurt anymore. You’re sad you can’t help, but a little relieved because there was so much of it.

        The messenger’s halla is tired. The two of them have been riding for days, but the message is important.

        You are dragged down the stairs past the Wild Card. Her fire still burns bright, but she hides it more now. She is scared. It’s all wrong. Too real. Too complicated. Too scary. Herald’s don’t tell you everything is the same and that’s that. They bring new things. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for new. Piss. Too much.

        You get pulled along past the Ambitious one. She has been away too long now, with no end in sight. She wonders if the ambition is worth it. She thinks of the kind man, the only one to ever see her weep. He is alone. So is she.

        The Resolve stands near her, decidedly resolved. His hurts are old, but you won’t be the one to help him.

        She will.

        Something in your stomach turns. You didn’t know your stomach could turn. Or that you had one.

        The Muscle leans against the old wood watching his family train. He doesn’t like to call them that. It hurts too much to think of them like that when he knows he’ll need to leave someday. You’re being pulled quickly but you have enough time to let him know one thing.

        He doesn’t have to leave them.

        The Believer shimmers as she strikes the practice dummy. She wants to beat out her own insecurities, but that isn’t so easy. She is struggling to decide what she believes recently. What direction Andraste is trying to guide her in. She has more in common with the Wild Card than either would likely be comfortable with. She is meant to be a bulwark of faith, but she fears her foundation is crumbling. And she doesn’t know if she should hate the other woman for it.

        You whisper past her as you’re pulled upwards. Faith isn’t a crumbling castle, it is an ocean. It is enduring and capable of change. 

        You burst into the air and gasp at the sunrise.

        The messenger has left his halla at the base of the mountain. She can recover there while he finishes this last leg.

        Two friends sit hidden in the tallest room of the furthest tower. They giggle over ale and old stories. There is so much pain between the two of them. Lost family. Lost friends.

        But there is love.

        They do not burn with it, but glow. 

        It is warm and comforting, it helps the pain.

        You smile and take a moment to soak it in. 

        You are ripped from the happiness and pulled down into ash and smoke.

        The woman’s fine clothes are stained with soot and blood. 

        That will be hard to get out, she thinks as another soldier is cut down in front of her, she didn’t know her name. She only knew a few of the others in her escort.

        The roof of a hut near her collapses in and the fire rages as high as the pitch of the scream from within.

        The woman in fine gold clothes is ushered into the Chantry as her escort runs back into the chaos to help more people. None of them will survive this.

        The Ambassador’s clothes are clean now, she is spotless, but she can still see the stains. Her hands can barely hold a quill as she stares at the spot on her sleeve where the embers had landed and left holes. The holes are gone now, but she still sees them. She sweats from the heat of the fire. It’s still burning all around her.

        I was useless. What good are words in the face of a dragon and its god-like master? What use am I?

        You steady her hands and remove the quill, it’s dripping ink will only stain the letter she’s been working so hard on. You remind her how important this letter is. It will get the Inquisition the supplies it so desperately needs. They don’t have the people yet, but this will help to feed and heal the people already here. That’s important.

        They couldn’t do this without her. A war is more than swords and battles.

        Cullen may lead on the battlefield, Leliana may gather secrets, but in politics and allies you are the war chief.

        She can mourn those she lost, she can fear what is coming eventually, that’s to be expected.

        But these things cannot paralyze her, not when she is so desperately needed.

        The woman in gold takes slow and calming breaths, and picks up the quill again.

        The messenger has reached the gates.

        There are so many shemlen here, and he is afraid. But there are enough refugees that no one pays him any mind.

        They think he is another convert arriving to see the Herald of Andraste in person. They do not care to learn what his vallaslin mean.

        That his devotion is to Ghilan’nain and his people.

        He mutters a prayer for safety. This is his first important assignment, and he can’t make any mistakes.

        A crowd gathers around the base of the stairs leading to the massive stone fortress. People are whispering and he doesn’t know what’s happening. He clutches his satchel closer. He only brought a small knife for cutting plants and self defense if absolutely necessary. The Elithanasha always says that the shedding of blood is the gravest of all sins, but being here among all these strangers he understands better than ever why people turn to it in fear. 

        He takes a breath, he is not so weak.

        Two shemlen women walk down the steps, the one in gold says something to the hooded one before descending the remaining steps and approaching a blonde shemlen man towards the front of the crowd. Another shemlen woman, this one broad with dark hair, walks through the crowd.

        The messenger can just barely see ear tips following her.

        His heart sings in hope.

        His hopes are proven to be true when the elvhen woman follows the dark haired shemlen up the stairs and he can see her more clearly. 

        The Raj’ha’haren of Mythal.

        He wants to weep, she’s really safe.

        The shemlen woman guides her up the stairs where the hooded one has revealed a sword. The Raj’ha’haren looks to the dark haired one and her brow is furrowed as she speaks to her. The dark haired one nods and continues talking. 

        The crowd is getting more fervent and you feel their fears and hurts abide for a moment as they all revel in the same balm.

        Hope.

        The Raj’ha’haren reaches out her hand and hesitates for a moment before clasping the handle of the sword. Her other hand joins the first as she lifts it.

        Why would the humans give her a sword when she will never use it, the messenger wondered. She can barely lift it. He supposed it was a symbolic thing.

        Her face shows some strain but she does lift the sword up in front of her. They all begin to cheer and the messenger wonders what they know that he doesn’t.

        The Raj’ha’haren takes her time turning to the crowd as she gazes thoughtfully at the sword she’s holding. After a moment she raises her eyes to gaze at the crowd. The people gathered fall silent, anticipating her words.

        “The Inquisition,” she begins, speaking with strength and conviction, “will stand for all of Thedas. As we face Corypheus and his army, we cannot be torn apart by old prejudice and hate. We must be an example to everyone of the strength of true unity. The strength of understanding and cooperation. I am an elf. And I am an elf that will stand between Thedas and all the horrors of the Fade if need be. Will you stand with me?”

        Her final words incite cheers throughout the crowd and you are lifted with them. It’s like being back in the fade and you are floating with their aspirations.

        The dark haired woman shouts over the cheers, “Have our people been told?”

        The woman in gold shouts in response, “They have! And soon, the world!”

        The dark haired woman calls out again, “Commander, will they follow?”

        The blonde man in the crowd turns to the crowd and raises his arms and shouts, “Inquisition, will you follow?”

        Cheers!

        “Will you fight?”

        Louder now!

        “Will we triumph?”

        The shouts are thunderous and the messenger has to cover his ears as the blonde man continues over the cacophony, “Your leader, your Herald,” the man pulls out his sword and points it up towards the Raj’ha’haren, “your Inquisitor!”

        The Raj’ha’haren looks down at the crowd smiling serenely and allows them this moment of happiness and hope before she turns with the two shemlen woman to walk up the stairs.

        The messenger allows the crowd to disperse as what just happened settles in his thoughts.

        The Raj’ha’haren has been chosen to lead an army of humans. In the name of their god. The messenger’s blood runs cold.

        You walk up beside him and take his hand. You remind him that she has been the Raj’ha’haren of Mythal much longer than she has been any sort of Herald of the human god. She has not changed. She was chosen for the position because of her wisdom, so she must surely have a plan. She will only ever act in a way that helps the people, and if she thinks this will help them, the messenger will trust her. 

       She will never turn her back on her people

       You watch the messenger work his way through the human crowd. The message he carries will test that hope.

       He finds the Raj’ha’haren in the main hall. She is surprised to see him, but warmth fills her to see another of her people in this cold human fortress. She misses the warm jungles of home and the crystal waters of the lake. When she embraces him, she can still smell the hibiscus in the leather, he must have been sent from her temple.

       The advisors look confused but are respectful enough not to interrupt as the messenger solemnly pulls a scroll from his bag. And kneels as he presents it to the Raj’ha’haren.

       The Raj’ha’haren is confused as she takes it.

       The messenger tells her, “It is from the Elithem Sul’anasha, with the utmost urgency.”

       A chill runs down the Raj’ha’haren’s back as she rips open the scroll with not near as much ceremony as it was presented with. She says a prayer in a heart that nothing has happened to Deshanna, she couldn’t handle that right now. She didn’t know if she ever could. She scans the letter rapidly and you see no reason to step in, there will be no hurt today.

       There is fear, but nothing that the Raj’ha’haren can’t handle, she hopes.

       She must simply invite her new friends home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen used  
> Elithanasha- shorthand for chief priest  
> Raj’ha’haren- shorthand for high priest  
> Elithem Sul’anasha- formal title for chief priest
> 
> Hope y'all like this one! Next chapter we get to really hear from Ellana for the first time!


	13. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party goes backpacking.

            Ellana may have been the only person in the absurdly large company who wasn’t wriggling out of her skin with discomfort. She was nervous, she had been gone for months and surely much had changed, but she wasn’t uncomfortable.

            It couldn’t have changed that much, right?

            Sera, on the other hand, looked like she would take off into the thick woods surrounding them at any given moment never to be seen again. Ellana had to work not to smile. The only person keeping Sera from fleeing the overwhelming elfyness was Rasa, who had been paying particular attention to the other rogue recently. Unfortunately Rasa wasn’t anywhere to be seen this morning, and Ellana was pretty sure Bull only sat next to Sera so he could grab her if she darted.

            When the invitation had arrived. An awkward conversation followed.

 Ellana had explained to her advisors that the chief priestess of her order had invited her to bring her new friends for a visit. Cullen was, of course, nervous about leaving Skyhold when they had only just begun setting up. However, the overwhelming need for more people and supplies allowed Ellana to win the argument that they should go.

Cassandra agreed through gritted teeth and stormed out.

            It was a good idea.

            Even if they would be the first ever shemlen to enter into the sacred Temple of Mythal.

            And most of them would rather not have that distinction.

            Everything would be fine.

            Ellana had been putting off telling the others exactly what they would meet when they arrived, but they were almost there and were likely beginning to suspect it was not a ragtag group of elves piecing together old ruins. 

Everyone had come along. Ellana’s advisors had left capable seconds to take care of the business of setting up Skyhold for the month or so it would take the Herald of Andraste to go on her “holy pilgrimage”. They’d made quick work getting down the mountains and into the vast forest of the Dales, but then they’d met up with their escort.

            Ellana didn’t see Deshanna’s hand in that. No, this had Soutuelan written all over it. A display of power.  Deshanna must not have been able to keep it quiet that she had invited humans to one of the People’s holiest sites. If he was involved it would make all of this that much more difficult. It had already started to.

            Still, to send this man to “escort” her was brazen and disrespectful to her office and priesthood. She only knew the leader of this company by reputation, and she would have preferred to keep it that way. She knew them by the red outlines of their Vallaslin. The Sulema’Din. Ellana felt her stomach twist and had to fight down the bile in her throat. Any hope that the journey would be a peaceful dissipated like morning dew on a hot day.

            A company of ha’haren of Elgar’nan had met them in a clearing in the Dales, shaded by an ancient Elvhen aqueduct. If Ellana hadn’t been so annoyed, she could have admitted it was an impressive sight. They emerged from around the ruins wearing gleaming ironbark armor. The iron-like wood had currents of silver running through it’s groves and made the warriors shimmer in the afternoon sun like the creek that ran nearby. They were armed to the teeth. They looked like something out of myth. 

They looked dangerous.

            Sahren was thrilled to be reunited with the other ha’haren of his order, but Ellana was slower to approach them. It was her signal alone that kept her companions from drawing their weapons. Sahren didn’t seem to realize until he was almost to his comrades that the tension was thicker than honey. Ellana scanned the faces of the ha’haren, she knew a few by name, but not many. She had no friends with them. The red paint on their faces was so dark it looked like blood, and knowing of this company’s reputation, it could have been.

            He stood in front of his company.

            The Raj’ha’haren of Elgar’nan. Arlanan.

            This was a man who had earned his name. Ellana took a slow breath and fixed a sweet smile on her face as she reached him. She placed one hand over her heart and extended the other. She had earned her spot too. She would not be intimidated by a thug.

            “Arani,” she greeted, “how good it is to finally meet you. Did the Elithanasha send you all the way here simply to meet me?”

            Arlanan smiled back at her and she saw that the rumors were true, he had filed his canines to vicious points, “Of course, Da’lath’in, we all just want you and your,” Arlanan glanced over Ellana’s shoulder and disdain dripped in his voice, “new friends to arrive safely.”

            He turned back to look at her, smiling again. Ellana bristled at the demeaning name, but bit her tongue. She wouldn’t rise to his taunts. Sahren stood nearby and his face twisted. Arlanan turned to give orders to some soldiers behind him and Ellana caught Sahren’s eye, and shook her head.

            Now was not the time to start fights, especially not with a Raj’ha’haren. It was at least a weeks journey to the temple, and Ellana didn’t need any more animosity making it worse. Especially not with this man and his lackeys. The company had brought extra Aravel’s with them to accommodate Ellana and her companions, and they made quick time across the Dales, skirted the Western Approach, and on into the Tirashan. The great forest. Ellana had spent the whole time keeping her companions and the ha’haren as separate as possible. It had been exhausting, but necessary. She knew these were not the sort of people to tolerate even a vague whiff of disrespect. 

            Ellana looked up at the last star in the sky and offered up a short prayer to Mythal. They would reach the temple by late afternoon. She closed her eyes and focused on what she knew.

She knew she could no longer put off this conversation. She knew her fellow priests would be welcoming. She knew few others would be the same. She knew they could not leave the temple without the aid of her people. 

She knew Mythal had chosen her for this. This is what she had saved her for, what she had delivered her to her temple for. She was going to change things.

She was a Herald.

Ellana looked around the campfire at her companions finishing their breakfast. The rest of the camp was already bustling and getting ready to head out, so the chaperones that had been taking turns watching their party were blissfully busy. Sahren was with the other ha’haren packing up and Rasa had slipped away. Ellana was worried about them. She knew Rasa had missed their brother while they’d been apart for their training. She could see the bitterness in Rasa’s face when they saw how their brother joked and flowed with the movement of the other in his order. Ellana did not care for them as a whole, but Sahren seemed to have found somewhere he was happy. Rasa had not, and was hurt that their brother had found a place of ease so far away from his twin. Rasa had spent most of the trip sulking, and Ellana didn’t have the slightest clue where they’d slipped off to this time. 

            Still, there wasn’t going to be a better time.

            Ellana examined the faces of her friends. She sighed and started, “So I’m assuming you’ve picked up on the fact that this visit isn’t just a big deal for the Inquisition?”

            Cole, the strange spirit boy that had helped them at Haven, nodded solemnly. His hat flopped on his head. Josephine sat next to him, to polite to move when he had sat next to her, and shifted slightly before answering, “We have.”

            Bull set his bowl down and leaned forward, “What are we in for boss?”

            Ellana took a moment to choose her words carefully before answering, “I’ve told you that we are going to the Temple of Mythal, the last one standing as far as we know. It’s one of our holiest sites. The priests of Mythal run it, and we serve primarily as the high courts for the People. Any issue that can’t be solved by a clan’s Keeper is brought to us, and we are typically the deciding factor in how to respond to any human aggression. Of the eight priesthoods, we are typically considered to be one of the most influential. The Dalish listen to us.”

            “So you’re a priest _and_ a judge?” Varric asked, “Wow, Seeker, you really couldn’t have picked out a better chosen one.”

            Cassandra growled, “I didn’t choose-”

            Ellana interrupted before they could get off topic, “As I was saying, we are one of the most influential orders. The other most influential order is the priesthood of Elgar’nan.”

            Cullen chimed in, “That’s the soldiers we’ve been traveling with, right?”

            Ellana nodded, “Right. We are respected for our wisdom, and they are respected for their might. They also tend to,” She paused, considering how to phrase the fact that most of them hated anyone not an elf, “err on the side of caution when it comes to... outsiders.”

            The strange spirit boy, Cole, spoke up, “Horrid, cruel monsters. They destroy everything in their path. Only good human is a dead one.”

            Everyone turned to stare at the boy for a moment before slowly turning back to Ellana.

            Ellana sighed, “Yes, that. Thank you Cole.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Josephine asked, “If they hate us why are they escorting us to their holiest site?”

            “Because you were invited. ” Ellana answered.       

Vivienne examined her nails as she spoke, “A complex legal structure? A military arm?” she looked up and studied Ellana, “My dear, one could almost begin to hope we are not going to be sleeping in little wooden carts for the next few weeks?”

            Ellana looked at Solas. He was the only one she’d spoken to in depth about her home. Sahren and Rasa might have talked to the others, but she doubted it. Solas just nodded slightly. Ellana took a breath and answered the other mage, “Because you’re not. Our temples have been continuously inhabited by priests since the fall of Arlathan. Many priests are direct descendents of the original priests who ruled there. They are no village Chantry. They are small cities. They are sites of pilgrimage and commerce. We have residents that work to support the priests who still lead them. We have public baths, barracks, schools, markets, and farms.”

            Varric whistled low and Sera piped up, “That’s got to be shite. If you’re all doing so nice and pretty in your fancy elf cities, how come no one knows about you?”

            “Because the only way to find a temple is to be taken there by a priest. It’s a very old enchantment, from before the fall of our empire. Many believe these enchantments were put in place by the gods themselves to keep our people safe.”

            Josephine looked a little pale as she asked, “Inquisitor, when was the last time a priest brought a human to one of these temples?”

            Ellana answered even though she suspected Josephine knew what she would say, “You all will be the first.”

            No one spoke.

            Ellana spoke first, “So I know it goes without saying, but please everyone, best behavior.”

            Everyone except nodded except Sera, who simply muttered, “Piss.”

            Ellana continued, “You haven’t even heard the worst part.”

            Cullen buried his head in his hands and Ellana had to strain to hear him ask, “What else?”

            “My Elithanasha, Deshanna Istimaethoriel, got us the invite. But if we’re going to get the help we need, we're going to have to convince the rest of the Elithanasha, for the first time ever, to insert themselves into the rest of Thedas’s affairs. That would include convincing Elithanasha Soutuelan, the leader of the priesthood of Elgar’nan. He controls our soldiers and if he doesn’t side with us, even if he’s out voted, his priests more than likely won’t help.”

            Josephine looked like she might cry, or have a panic attack, or both. Leliana sat beside her and took her hand. The ambassador took slow and deep breaths, Ellana sympathized.

            Iron Bull let out a laugh from deep in his belly, “Great! Sounds like fun.”

            Sera leapt to her feet and shouted, “Piss! No! I ain’t doing this!” 

            Bull grabbed her arm as she moved to run.

            “Calm down kid, we’ll be fine.” Bull turned from Sera to Ellana, “Besides, I have a feeling our job is mostly going to comprise of not talking and staying out of the boss’s way.”

            Ellana nodded, “Pretty much. If you’re spoken too, be polite and respectful, but other than that you’ll be given your own quarters and feel free to spend most of your time there.” She turned to where Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen sat, “I will need you though. I’ll be presenting a case to the Elithem Sul’anasha’an about why this is a good idea, and as the other leaders of the Inquisition I will need you to answer their questions and help me explain to them why this is a good idea.”

            Cullen looked a little ill but nodded, as did Josephine. Leliana turned away from her friend to Ellana and said solemnly, “We won’t let you down Inquisitor.”

            Ellana smiled and nodded, “I know.”

            She knew they would do their best.

The others began to relax, but Ellana wasn’t done, “You will be baited. Most obviously by the priests of Elgar’nan, but by others too. You can’t bite. Please avoid associating me in anyway with the Chantry, don’t preach about Andraste, don’t bring up politics, Teveniter, mages, templars, or really anything involving the ‘glory’ of human history.”

            Ellana gave pointed looks to Cassandra, Dorian, and Vivienne who each nodded in turn. Ellana sighed and leaned back a little, “Good.”

            Everything would be fine.

            They finished their meal in silence and began to clean up. Everyone was just starting to relax when Arlanan sauntered over, his wicked grin pasted firmly on his face. His teeth shone in the firelight. He looked exactly like the elvhen horror story Josephine had described during her first private conversation with Ellana.

            “Good!” He chirped, “You’re all up and ready to go. Wheels roll in half an hour.”

            He turned his focus to Ellana, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to see your home again, Da’lath’in, I know how much your Elithanasha has missed you. Though,” he said with a tone of false speculation, “with how busy you’ve been I wonder if you’ve had any time to miss her.”

            He cocked his head like he was in thought before turning on his heel and walking away. Ellana’s spine crawled and she couldn’t hold back an unprofessional grunt.

            Iron Bull stood next to her, “What an ass. You sure you don’t want me snap him in half boss?”

            Ellana nodded, “I’m sure. He’s aggravating, but he’s not our biggest problem.”

            “You shouldn’t fight him,” Cole said, suddenly appearing on Bull’s other side and Ellana swore she saw Bull jump just a little, “A name born from the screams of scared people fleeing a burning village. He had so much hate. He wanted them to suffer. He remembers the violence fondly, like a child remembering a childhood story.”

            Bull’s gaze slid from Cole slowly to Ellana. She didn’t need to turn to notice the sudden lack of movement and noise behind her. 

            “It was when he was an initiate. A few Dalish hunters were killed by some humans in the Anderfels. He tracked the humans with a few other initiates back to the village they lived in. They attacked at night and butchered almost every single person in that little town. The only reason there wasn’t another exalted march on elvhen was because they were so brutal that the survivors thought they had been darkspawn. The Elithanasha of his order promised the Elithanasha of ours that he would find a way to control his overzealous new priest. That it had been a mistake born of anger. He had only wanted retribution for the lives the shemlen had stolen. The Elithanasha agreed on the condition that it would never happen again. Soutuelan made him Raj’ha’haren within a year. That was five years ago.”

            Ellana turned and everyone was staring at her in varying degrees of horror. Josephine gasped out, “He’s a murderer.”

            Ellana nodded and explained plainly, “He is. And you cannot call him that. His Elithanasha convinced many that he was in the right. That after all the violence done against the People over the years, they should learn to fear us a little more. There are still priests in high positions that agree with that school of thought, and Elithanasha Istimaethoriel has kept that inclination at bay for a long time but it is growing stronger.”

            Josephine was pale again as Ellana continued, “I really cannot overstate how careful you have to be. You will not be walking into a city of allies. This may be the most dangerous thing I’ve ever asked of any of you.”

            Blackwall spoke for the first time, “We have your back my lady, where you lead we’ll follow.”

            Ellana smiled, he was a kind man. The others wandered off and Ellana just stood and watched them disperse. 

            She really hoped this would work out.

            She loved her home, and she loved her people, but she knew how important the Inquisition’s work was. She didn’t want to have to pick. 

            Solas kept glancing back over her way and she had to keep herself from grinning. Now wasn’t the time for this. She couldn’t focus on the clever mage who seemed to know a great deal about everything. She had too many other more important things to focus on, like not letting this alliance fall apart before it began and keeping her people and the rest of Thedas safe from an insane blighted Magister.

            Still, she smiled just a little to herself when she was sure no one was looking. She could allow herself that. One smile. That’s all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally got to Ellana! This is part one of a few. We're gonna stick with her for the majority of the time at the temple. This is the big breaking point from canon y'all. Get ready.  
> Also, sorry for being a little slow to update. It took a new decade for me to have a heart to heart with myself and I swerved from an opportunity that was gonna be a bad direction for me, but the following clean up has been a little hectic. There's a good chance updates might slow for the next month or two. I should be able to pick back up after that.  
> Elvhen used
> 
> Soutuelan- the creator’s strength (name)
> 
> Sulema’Din-  To bring death/ death bringers/ Reapers
> 
> Ha’haren- casual term for priest
> 
> Raj’ha’haren- casual term for high priest
> 
> Arlanan- home of vengeance (name)
> 
> Arani- my friend, used for more casual acquaintances 
> 
> Da’lath’in- little heart, describes someone emotional, wears their heart on their sleeve, or is very sympathetic to others. Normally used for children.
> 
> Elithanasha- casual term for chief priest
> 
> Elithem Sul’anasha’an- plural formal term for chief priest


End file.
